


Across All Realities (That is Our Constant)

by ThirthFloor



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: :(, :), Alternate Dimensions, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Academia, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt Stephen Strange, Infinity Stones, Insecure Loki (Marvel), I’m just being honest, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Kamar-Taj (Marvel), Like I’m not kidding, Loki & Peter Parker Friendship, Loki & Thor Friendship (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Dies (Marvel), Lots of Angst, M/M, Magic, Minor Original Character(s), Mirror Dimension (Marvel), No Beta we die like Loki (and then come back), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Romantic Friendship, Sick Loki (Marvel), Stephen Strange & Wong Friendship, The Eye of Agomotto, The Tesseract (Marvel), The Time Stone, The multiverse, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Time Travel, but not really, canon compliant in the sense that Loki often gets the short end of the stick, he does get some nice things tho, the New York Sanctum, theres lots of fluff but lots of angst too, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirthFloor/pseuds/ThirthFloor
Summary: Stephen Strange, the sorcerer from Midgard, had infuriated him at first. He was nothing but a tactless insult to techniques Loki had been mastering his whole life.But the Multiverse held opportunities that even he had not previously imagined: a kaleidoscope of beauty, wonder, and power.Some of those opportunities were based on intellect, some based on practiced skill, on expansion of the mind. And some were based on a challenge of fierce emotion, a fire that sometimes leapt out of control, or warm embers of comfort after centuries of longing.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Thor, Loki/Stephen Strange
Comments: 40
Kudos: 84





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for coming to my first 100k!! While this first chapter is merely a prologue to establish timeline, the vast majority of the rest of the fic will focus solely on Stephen and Loki. I look forward to taking this journey with you!!

Runes seared into the facility’s front lawn, innocent emerald blades shriveling a golden brown in fantastical unison with their now patterned neighbours. The column of brilliant light could likely be seen for all the city, if not the state, and Peter Parker nearly fell on his ass with the clap of thunder that accompanied its contact with the earth.

Chest heaving, he darted inside, barely registering the relief of air conditioning on his sweat-plastered, post-workout skin. The floor felt slicker than ever as his sneakers squealed around corners, finally screeching to a halt in the wide door frame of the lab.

“Um – Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice peaked, oxygen thin, and he flapped his hands to compensate for language. “There’s some Star Trek stuff going on outside, like, people are – there’s a big beam of light. Is that Thor, or aliens? Because if it’s aliens, I’m – I can go get changed.”

Tony blinked, dropping something with a tinny clatter onto the counter. “Shit. FRIDAY?”

_My readings are picking up that this is the ‘Bifrost’.”_

“Oh, good, but – _really¸_ Thor? The front lawn?” Breathing an exasperated sigh, the man’s shoulders relaxed as the weakly veiled panic left his features. Instead, grumbling before plastering on a grin, Tony wrapped an arm tightly around Peter’s shoulders, steering towards the door. “C’mon kid, you want to meet a god?”

They walked back through the halls Peter had sped through, that steady, brisk pace so characteristic of Stark. The glaring light had since dissipated, and through the windows that stretched to the ceiling of the lobby’s foyer, there was a visibly scorched space on the lawn.

Peter rambled, his narrow frame buzzing in place. “Oh my god, I’m gonna meet Thor. Wait – Wait, am I allowed to say ‘oh my god’ because he’s – he’s a god? I mean, Mr. Stark,” Tony had tuned him out at some point between leaving the lab and stepping outside, “we _learn_ about Thor in physics. It’s crazy. He’s like, you know that joke mathematicians have been hiding in textbooks for years, the ‘my cousin Throckmorten’ thing? I feel like I’m meeting _him_ , I’m meeting a word problem legend…”

"Might want to shut up, you’ll confuse them. Prime Directive.”

“How is talking about word problems going to – _oh my god, his face._ ”

Broad shoulders decorated in patterned metal armor Tony didn’t recognize lifted with Thor’s bare, colossally muscled arms as he spread his hands in greeting. His grin was blinding as the Bifrost in which he arrived, welcoming like he owned the place. Tony raised a brow at the absence of the stylishly tangled blond locks, and the dark presence of a metal eyepatch – but hey, the chances of hell the god had been through were high, considering the action that had kept himself restless for the past year.

“Stark!” As always, Thor’s bassy voice carried far across whatever distance lie between him and his comrades. “So good to see you well, it’s been quite some time! Oh, and look who I found!” He pointed to a more tentative figure at his side, a gesture which made both Tony and the kid beside him freeze. “It’s Banner!”

Tony didn’t quite believe it. His throat dried, all annoyance or worry set to the side from the sudden arrival, vision tunneling onto the weary features of his best friend. _For the longest time, he’d thought…_ “Bruce?” Quiet.

Bruce recovered with a weak smile from the god jostling his shoulder, such a tired look in his eyes but a fondness dedicated only to his yang in intelligence. “Hey, Tony.”

Barely allowing the words out, not another moment passed before Tony power-walked forward, wrapping his friend in a tight, sudden embrace, one that Bruce reciprocated just as soon. A good reunion, one that was hardly interrupted by the high schooler behind them, flapping his hands and wheezing out what could be words.

“I just – oh my god of – it’s Thor.” Peter squeaked, bouncing on his toes.

Attention drawn from the two quiet men, Thor chuckled warmly at the familial energy of the gathering. “I am! Stark, you didn’t tell me you had a son!” A large hand clapped right onto Peter’s shoulder as Thor looked him over with one deep blue eye. “How old is this one, seven, eight years?”

“He’s not my son, he’s my intern,” clarified Tony once he’d straightened up, adjusting his jacket and still fixating on Banner, seemingly back from the dead.

Bruce’s nervous eyes flicked between them. “You sure?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m Peter Parker and I’m sixteen, your – majesty? Majesty, right? Good, unless… not good?” Smiling shyly, the kid once again shuffled his feet, unable to stand still, before his brows shot up and one arm shot out in an accusing point. “Holy _shit,_ Mr. Stark, look out, it’s the – it’s _him_!”

A sharp scoff answered as all eyes turned to the third and final guest, black-clad in his nature and an eyeroll ready on reflex. Tony immediately frowned. “Ew.”

“The feeling is quite mutual,” Loki’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, fabric of the formal suit fit for a funeral if it weren’t so tight. And he looked just as unhappy to be present as Stark was to have him. The two stared, mental matches of spite and wits.

It grew awkward quickly. Thor’s grin tightened, and he began to explain when Peter beat him to it, yet again unable to refrain from jumping in. “Um – well, it’s nice to meet you, all of you, Dr. Banner and Thor and um… I guess, I mean I _personally_ have nothing against you, Mr. Loki sir, so um – nice to meet you too?” The darting of his gaze sought approval from the surrounding adults, shoulders hunching forward in a cringe in question if that was the wrong thing to say.

“Don’t worry, Loki’s been growing throughout the years!” Thor announced cheerfully. He attempted to wrap an arm around his brother’s shoulders, only to be batted and shoved away with a disdainful look. “I’m sure he won’t bite this time around. And if he _does,_ you can be sure that we will take him back to the new and improved jail chambers on… well, Asgard’s gone, but…” The god shrugged his hefty shoulders after puzzling himself. “It’s quite a long story, really.”

Once again, Tony sucked in a breath to remark, but was instead interrupted by the man in question. “I don’t – currently – have plans to do anything. Prisons _really_ aren’t necessary, I assure you.” The sharp arch of a brow was shot at his brother.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not exactly buying it, Reindeer,” Tony quipped in response; but civility could not be avoided, not with more important things come to light, and he turned to communicate with Bruce for the group. “So, I take it you plan to stay? There are rooms for everyone, and I guess… Well, I didn’t upgrade the security in this building for nothing. At least long enough for you to explain to me where the hell you’ve been.”

Bruce nodded, “Yeah, Tony. We’re staying. And – trust Thor on this, Loki’s um… not as bad as he was. Less – less, _murder_ y, I suppose.”

“Yes, he’s less take-over-the-world evil and more slightly-frustrating-in-a-stabby-way evil now, if that soothes your nerves!”

“That really doesn’t make me feel better, Thor.”

“Regardless,” the blond continued, dopey grin and thunderous volume drowning out any discomforted protests Tony could have added, “I intended only to bring Banner here back down to Earth, but then figured it had been so long since I’d seen you and the team, then why not stay for a while! Tell me, where are the others?”

“Oh. That’s…” Peter trailed off when Tony’s dark gaze fixated on a space not quite on the ground. So explained the lingering fatigue of his posture, the bags under his eyes and the willingness to invite guests – even those who used to be enemies – to offer some semblance of company at the compound.

“No. No, they’re not here. It’s just me and the kid for now.”

Loki chuckled lightly, a smirk tugging into a grin on thin lips. “Oh dear. Trouble in paradise?”

The comment only earned a suddenly shrouded glare, one that quickly spared itself to address the others. “There’s a lot to catch you up on.”

“Well, we’ve certainly got time. We just defeated,” Thor offered, doing his best to sound sympathetic despite not understanding the gravity of what information Tony had for them, now gesturing between Loki and himself in reference, “our sister, so that’s the threat we’ve gotten out of the way. Unless you humans have meddled with something again, there does not appear to be much coming, as far as Heimdall has seen.”

“You had a sister? Oh, Christ…” Tony rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, now there’s a _lot_ for us to cover, you bringing your crazy brother along one of them. Come inside, I’ll probably need to sit.”

“Okay, well, at least no aliens for now, that’s good at least…” Feebly, Peter tried to bring a bright side as he followed behind Stark back to the sleek, shining building. The others shrugged between themselves at the fair claim before moving as well.

Bruce glanced about in awe of the new structure, the glassy layout familiar but unused to the humble stature. “So, where is everyone, if not here? This is still Avengers HQ, right?” He gestured to the symbolic ‘A’ just within the main foyer.

Finally, his curt strides ceasing, Tony spun on his heel to face the group of men wandering in behind him, putting the palms of his hands flat together to gesture sharply. “Yeah, here’s the thing. There are no more Avengers. We broke up. And the only reason I’m standing to let Thor bring his psycho-sadist brother here is because I don’t want to risk losing you, Bruce, since you’re possibly the only sane, smart person I can ever trust again.”

“Well, that’s not surprising at all. Or putting you at much of an advantage. Thank you for the welcome, by the way.” Loki once again felt the need to interject, glancing about the room for his passivity to further test their host’s patience.

“H-Hang on, Loki, please.” Bruce stepped forward, extending his hands in peace. “We – what? Broke up, like a band? Like the Beatles? Tony, what happened?”

Stark looked away, jaw tightening and shifting as he contemplated the right explanation. Peter beat him to it, albeit vaguely. “He and Captain Rogers got in a big fight, it was awe– erm, really intense.” The boy folded his hands behind himself, rocking backwards on his heels when his eyes met the floor.

Any awkward silence that may have been conjured had naught a moment to breathe before Thor dismissed the grave explanation, as if it were nothing more than a silly excuse. “Oh, well I’m sure your differences will be settled in no time! You know, as gods we live through thousands and thousands of years, losing and regaining friends is common in our lifetimes. I’m sure you’ll work it out…” He tried his best to give a sympathetic pat to Tony’s weary shoulders, his hand falling just too hard to be comforting.

Tony then only rolled his eyes in response, seeing the gorgeous blond was clearly too positive to believe Tony and Steve could ever truly break up their team for good. And he was _not_ in the mood to be lectured for this. “It was a fight you _definitely_ weren’t there for. You were at home, perfectly safe.”

Chuckling softly, the Asgardian siblings made eye contact, and something about that look made Tony groan in blatant frustration. Of course, the _sister_ , something more they had to get around to discussing. When moments ago Tony was elated to have Bruce back, he suddenly wanted nothing more than for everyone to leave him in peace for the rest of the evening.

Bruce recognized Tony’s mannerism and attempted to salvage their relatively decent welcome. “Yeah, okay, you guys never got along that great, but you always work it out when it matters… So, what changed?”

“Well, certainly it can’t have been a matter of personal interests,” Thor continued the interjection, “it has to be involving the entirety of the group. I mean, after Ultron and the city… Eh, I can see that having been an issue, actually.”

“ _That’s_ a little bit of an understatement, yeah, but I think he’s got the idea, right Mr. Stark?”

Tony hoped the kid knew that his small attempts to make this event not horribly awkward were appreciated, but not effective in the slightest. “It was a lot of things… It was bad timing to happen all at once, especially. But anyways, I have no idea where they all are. They were in prison, then they escaped, and now they’re gone.”

“Huh,” Thor shrugged once again, his remaining eye – _finally_ – focusing in understanding of the gravity of their discrepancies, but nonetheless that optimists’ spark remained. “Well, if they bother to stop by between now and then, we’ll say hello, and if not, we’ll leave you two to settle out your drama and be on our way! I’m sure it will all come to a more peaceful conclusion.”

Another silence fell over them, before Bruce nudged Thor and whispered something that was incentive enough for the two to make distance between themselves and the other three, speaking in hushed tones which Thor’s voice often broke through. Loki stepped closer to eavesdrop, but his pale eyes remained high; not only did he refuse to even gaze upon Stark, but it appeared as though he were scrutinizing every detail of the building for either patterns or flaws. Tony felt hollow, a sense of disconnect washing over him and numbly dragging him back towards that self-imposed isolation. It was Peter that managed to tug him out before his mind drifted out to sea, as it so often was.

“So, like, are we going to just let them wander around, or are we calling the team, or…?” Keeping his voice low, Peter’s dark brown eyes darted nervously between Stark and the surprising guests.

Tony shook his head, snapped back to reality and confident passivity strengthening his tone. “No, I think this is a purely social visit. No need to contact the others.” The boy nodded, satisfied with the assuring response.

Bruce abruptly managed to pull himself from conversing with Thor, once again twisting his hands in the hem of his shirt as he wandered back to Tony’s side. “You’ve made some upgrades to the building, it’s nice…”

Shrugging, Tony sighed, “Yeah, well I had to keep busy. Couldn’t spend all the time fighting my friends, you know… Babysitting took its place.” One thumb shot towards the kid, who’s attention was now fixated on the younger god, who was now sulking in the bright doorway to the foyer.

In no time, the kid’s feet had unconsciously shuffled himself forward. “Um… Mr. Stark has rooms available, if you’d rather hang out there? I mean,” he lifted one shoulder in a shy twinge, “it might be nice to get your own space before someone else takes it? Not that there’s a – a shortage or anything, this place is huge…”

Loki gazed upon the child with a look of condescension, before closing his eyes to hide how he rolled them. “It hardly compares to the palace, but I suppose I’ll take a room.”

“Oh, come on, let’s head upstairs then!”

“ _Hey_ , kid! Keep your senses sharp with that one.” Tony glared and pointed a finger sharply at Loki, narrowing dark eyes at the begrudgingly welcomed trickster. “I do _not_ trust you. I don’t want to let my kid go alone with you, either, because you’re still crazy, but I’ll make an exception to get you out of my sight.”

Peter gave a double thumbs-up, grinning with hardly a concern. “Don’t worry, Mr. Stark, I’ve got this! It’s really no problem, Mr. Loki, I don’t mind…”

The pair turned and went up the open staircase, Peter beginning to chatter all the way. Stark waited until they were just out of earshot before glancing up at the ceiling. “Just to be safe, FRIDAY?”

The AI replied on cue, _“I’m already monitoring the pair, Boss. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”_

Thor nodded in agreement, shifting his stance to look towards the stairs. “There should really be no worries, Loki only likes to irritate if there’s competition. If he doesn’t see little Peter as a threat, then he won’t bother too much beyond the occasional gripe.”

“Really, Tony, it’s going to be fine.” Bruce tugged at the hem of his shirt, offering a small smile in place of real reassurance. It warmed Tony’s aching heart all the same, to see his friend safe and at home; at least as much as this empty place could have been called _“home”_ in Tony’s solitude, in the absence of those he had held close before.

But no, he wasn’t going to say that here. No words would ever slip off his tongue and past his teeth, nothing that could ever challenge what relief twisted in his chest, relief so bizarre that he would let even a past enemy like _Loki_ stay if only to keep two old friends at his side. Instead, Tony raised a brow at Bruce’s bruised hands. “Is that my shirt?”

“It is!” Thor once again grinned, that dumb, infectious smile. “We found your clothes on the Quinjet after Bruce had turned back into himself, really the whole trip was quite exciting. The planet was… Well, frankly it was terrible, but I found him, so it all worked out in the end, I suppose.”

“I’m still trying to get over the fact that you were in space,” Tony meant it as a joke, but something in his chest spread down to twist in his gut, that familiar sense of overwhelming, complicated feelings coming up to grapple with his throat and press at his lungs. He needed to get away, needed to think. “All the same, I’m glad you’re back. Any rooms upstairs are free, go ahead and take whatever you want to get settled. Seriously, welcome home guys.”

He moved forward then and patted Bruce’s shoulder, hand lingering as their eyes met for a breathless moment – and he knew something was different there. Bruce looked at him with a fatigue, a caring gaze of understanding. He knew; it had been hell and he _knew_.

 _Of course_ his best friend knew, he was a genius. Tony had to pull away.

“We can leave you to your work, Stark.” Thor seemed to sense something too, like a supportive puppy, and his smile grew softer as he directed it now to the small, timid man at his side. And, now obviously, that smile was fonder. Tony let out a noise of new understanding. “Come along, Banner!”

Calling back over his shoulder, Bruce’s gaze promised some sort of explanation. “I’ll be down in the lab later, Tony, and it really is good to see you…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

~

Upstairs, Peter rambled as he led Loki down the hall. “You’re right, it’s certainly no palace, but those aren’t really commonplace on earth anymore, and with the internet and everything, a private room is really nice when you think about it. You can just – be by yourself and no one really minds. So, um – right down here, you can pick whichever you’d like?”

Making a face, Loki hid mild confusion with only some disdain, but turned to a door, nonetheless. He nodded towards it, then looked to the boy. “This one will do.”

Nodding right away, Peter let out an awkward little laugh and put a hand in one pocket, hunching his shoulder again shyly before punching in the passcode. “We can put you in the system for this room so it’ll automatically unlock when you get here, and this place can be all yours really. I don’t think Tony will let FRIDAY listen to you, so I guess if you get lost or need anything, you can just ask me, or your brother. But um… yeah, make yourself at home?”

Loki gazed about the room, simple in its decoration but the furnishings were adequately comfortable. While it may not have been a priority, Stark knew how to put his money to best use. He kept his tone flat, nonchalant. “I suppose it’ll do.” Then he paused. “Now, why on earth would a day of the week listen to me?”

“Oh!” Peter grinned, and that same positive cheer echoed that of Thor’s bubbly personality so precisely that Loki scowled, cringing away. “It stands for Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth, she’s the AI that’s linked throughout the building. She helps with… I mean, everything.”

Thin brows furrowed ever so slightly. “So, she is an artificial servant?”

“Ooh, um, I’d say ‘assistant’? It’s a nicer word… but essentially, yeah, Mr. Stark programmed her to have a sort of attitude. She follows instructions as she best sees fit according to that instructions as she best sees fit according to that. Like, Mr. Stark has her set up to keep track of everyone’s vitals, so let’s say you were in trouble in this room. We technically don’t have the authorization to come in, but if FRIDAY thinks you need help, she’d unlock the door for us. It’s actually really cool how much she’s evolved to respond best to everyone here.”

Oh. That was quite helpful, really. Loki frowned. “You talk… incessantly.”

Jolting into focus, Peter waved his hands suddenly in apology. “Well, ah, okay, I’m – s-sorry, we don’t get many visitors! Anyways, I’ll… leave you to yourself. Um… Let me know if you need anything, I guess. Sorry.”

“You don’t… Oh, just. Be on your way.”

Peter flapped his hands again, this time backing towards the door in farewell. “Again, let me know if you need anything! I’ll be downstairs!”

~

Tony sat at the table fiddling with the small panels he’d been trying to complete before the arrival of the two gods with Bruce in tow, but now it had been half an hour with no more progress. He stared at his hands, seemingly mesmerized by the callouses on the lateral sides of his fingers. Before him, not three feet away, a hologram displayed old prototypes from nearly six years ago.

It was great to have Bruce back, it really was – and clearly something had begun to stir between him and Thor in their time away. That much was obvious, and it was frankly not unexpected, something that whispers, glances and shy looks from the past had finally brought to unspoken reality. Yet there was still something about it, something that made Tony feel so strange, something that allowed him to slip up enough to let anyone inside; if only to chase away what quiet crept in the early hours when light was thin or the sky was newly dark.

Bruce was presumed dead. They mourned him, and the loss of the others… Well, that was supposed to be temporary. But here he was now, back before Tony even had the chance to call Steve. It hurt, not directly but all over, memories and emotions swelling up and around whereas everyone else seemed to be treating this like a fairly normal reunion.

A knock on the door frame shook him from his misty thoughts, and Tony just had time to turn around before Peter’s concerned tone already reached him. “Hey um… Mr. Stark? Is everything okay?”

“Hey, Pete. I’m all good.” He straightened up, closing the old holograms with a flippant wave of the hand. “How’s Rock of Ages?”

“Oh, I got Loki situated in his room and gave him a rundown of how stuff works, so that’s done… I like him. He’s kinda nice, really, just a little awkward. I really do think Thor is right, I think he’s mellowed out.” His hands fidgeted before he folded them in front of him. “Since that’s done, are you just… coming back to work, or should I go, or…?”

Tony leaned back in his chair. The best thing he could do now would be to focus on the kid. “You got homework with you?”

“I have the summer assignment project for physics, the one we keep putting off? We could start that, or _I_ could start on that. If you weren’t implying that we’d do it together?” The smile that flicked onto Peter’s soft, optimistic face was unmistakable.

“Grab your backpack, kid, let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This began as a study of the Multiverse, an essay that merely rambled over its workings. It then turned into the biggest project I have ever attempted, and my favorite story I have ever crafted.
> 
> I look forward to the progression of this story, and hope you will accompany me throughout its entirety!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> Follow me for more updates on Tumblr @aegir-emblem, or on Twitter @thirthfloor!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of their first day in the Compound, Thor and Loki make a bet.

The first day went simply enough; Thor remained at Bruce’s side, loyally ensuring he settled into his new chambers and had little need of any assistance. After a few moments of nothing more than their usual small talk, the exhausted scientist insisted he head down to the lab and join Stark for the few hours of energy he had left for the evening.

Which of course, led to Thor himself settling in, quickly becoming relatively restless. The tricked-out tech of the new Compound did little to impress or mesmerize the god after what he’d seen from Stark’s previous tower – let alone his own home, although it was now destroyed. That, or he humbly admitted that he did not understand why some things would be so fascinating when Bruce was not prattling on, elaborating on their intricacies for Thor simply to gaze upon him as he did so.

Conclusively, the only concrete source of interest for the rest of the evening could come from an individual themselves. And unfortunately for the individual in question, Thor happened to be staying right down the hall.

He meandered to Loki’s room, taking his time before knocking on the door – a knock not insistent but not entirely light, either. There were only certain things Thor could be delicate with by choice. “Loki? It’s Thor!” As if it weren’t obvious, but one could never be sure. While he was certain he’d never actually startled Loki, it was better to announce his entrance first in order to determine whether or not to blame potential stabbings on surprise and impressive reflex, or Loki’s usual antisocial antics. “Can I come in?”

“Would it matter if I said no?” A beat. “Fine, come in.”

“Oh, splendid, I was worried you were in a foul mood. Well, something beyond your usual sour demeanour.” Thor grinned widely, the door opening for him by Loki’s command, and when he stepped into the room – why, he didn’t know where to direct his attention first.

There had to be a half-dozen copies of Loki wandering about the room, namely a few of which were lying on the bed, tossing some of the expensive decorations of Stark’s that had been in the room, or some who happened to just be sitting, reading, or pacing. All gazing up in unison, Loki’s intentionally cold and creepy tone echoed around the eldest Asgardian. “Hello, brother.”

“Oh brother, bored already? I as well. Now, which one of you is it?” Perpetually unfazed, Thor batted his hands through each of the illusions, making his rounds in an attempt to find contact, before coming to one seated in the armchair and resulting in one meaty hand smacking lightly right into his little brother’s face. It earned a hiss. “Ah, there you are! Truly, how are  _ you  _ doing? Settling in well?”

A deep scowl accompanied one of Loki’s slender hands on covering his face. “The physical assault was hardly necessary. I am settled, though you are right,  _ incredibly _ bored.” There wasn’t adamant opposition in his tone, no worrisome lilts that suggested he may cause danger, nor hidden droops to suggest he’d like to leave; just an impassivity, a resignation to his fate to remain here until their business was through.

Thor tried his best to be encouraging, as he knew this was not easy for his sibling. “I’m sure we can find something for you to do around here, if not helpful than for your own amusement. And with Valkyrie back with our people, if I intend to stay long then I can allow you passage back to join her. I’m afraid I know not how long our plans with the humans will take, I did not get around to discussing it with Stark himself, and Bruce seemed rather tired.”

Of course, there was another factor, but that needn’t be mentioned any time soon, if at all. The legality of transporting thousands of undocumented people – from a different planet, no less – would likely take up more time than anything else would at the current moment.

Loki shrugged, watching with narrowed eyes as Thor appeared to contemplate something he had not been enlightened to. “I imagine I may get a slightly better welcome with them than here on Midgard. I will consider your offer.”

“I promise they’re not all bad, the humans. Why, most of them have likely forgotten about your whole taking-over-the-world thing since you’ve grown out your hair more and worn tighter clothing… You know, especially what with the damage the Avengers, mostly Stark and the Captain, have caused in the previous years.” Mirroring Loki’s unknowing gesture, Thor shrugged, too. “Perhaps if you establish trust, you can roam the grounds?”

With a brief snap, Loki closed the book open in his lap and stood from the chair where he was seated. “Are they really that stupid, still? I grow out my hair and they forgive and forget? It’s a wonder they’re still alive at all.”

Thor cringed. “You didn’t exactly… make the  _ most  _ immense of impressions from my point of view, brother. It was only one city… First aliens, but we’ve done worse since then. Sorry.”

One thin, dark eyebrow shot up. “Really? I’ll try harder next time.”

“No, no, no. There won’t be a next time, you know that.” Thor laughed, a sound that filled his chest and the room, accompanied only by a slightly warning, condescending tone in his words. A fair trait of the golden-hearted eldest. “You’ve made so much progress, even become respected by some! Why cast that aside? I think, what we need to do,” drawing Loki close by the arm and looking him in the eye, bright blue sparkled with an expression that would be  _ mischief _ if it weren’t so  _ good _ , “is find  _ you _ a friend.” He punctuated the word with a light poke to Loki’s chest.

Loki felt sick, less from the suggestion and more from the mere thought of agreeing on something so silly, so humiliating. “A friend.”

Thor pulled back suddenly, jostling Loki’s shoulders before throwing his thick arms out wide in celebration of an idea so simple. “Precisely! Someone that doesn’t irritate you nearly as much as I, your family, or those you’ve already held grudges against!”

Loki could only scowl so much, so he let his expression instead drop into a light mock of disbelief. Thor couldn’t  _ seriously  _ consider this as a viable option. “Yes? Well, I wish you luck in your endeavor to find someone, and I will see you in two weeks when you admit defeat.”

“Two weeks? Well, if there’s one thing you know I won’t refuse, brother, it’s a challenge. I’ll find someone!” Thor chuckled once more, that gleam still present in his remaining eye. “And if not, you will only beat me to it for the right to brag. I know you, brother.”

“No.” Flat.

“Yes! And while we stay here, try not to break anything! It would be wise to turn in for rest like the others have. I’ll come to see you in the morning?” Wary of the growing resentment in Loki’s gaze, the absolute  _ exasperation  _ in his pale stare, Thor was careful not to turn his back as he headed for the door, instead waving to signal his intent for departure. He grinned at the sour expression, that much more commonplace of his brother than the dreadfully bored gaze.

Loki rolled his eyes, tightly crossing his arms in defiance as if Thor’s words themselves were reaching out to him for some sappy embrace. “Memory serves that  _ you’re  _ the one who usually breaks things. But… yes, I will see you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> I don't know how consistent my update schedule will be, due to the way school is going... So, I'm pushing out chapters as fast as I can! That being said, look out for the days that I update twice in a day, to suffice you for the times when I maybe don't post for a week or so!! The chapters will vary greatly in length, so some might just take longer to craft than others.
> 
> I have a plan, though! Trust me babies, you're in good hands. <3
> 
> If you'd like to support my work, this fic, or just chat, find me on social media! Tumblr @aegir-emblem and Twitter @thirthfloor!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce contemplates what has changed, and perhaps what may change moving forward.

Around midafternoon, Bruce enjoyed the blissful quiet of the Compound in the kitchenette, gazing out wide windows and tracing the semicircular tree line that surrounded the second annex with clouded, dark brown eyes. In two years, ages and yet no time at all, he had missed more than he thought; and as much as he needed to be caught up, hearing it just… made him angry.

It made him angry, but something was different; because now, the familiar feeling that would have sent ice to his veins and a dread to seize his breath, simply wasn’t there. Instead of bigger, angrier, he felt smaller and sadder. For the first time since then, he was experiencing the weight of the world again, unable to just take a backseat to it all. And even on Sakaar, and Asgard, the adrenaline made things easy.

Now, his shoulders hunched with more than fatigue every time he thought of Steve, of Clint. Of Natasha… Especially Natasha. Tony was his best friend, and Thor was something, too, but Nat had always understood in ways that even Bruce did not.

He missed her. Maybe she would know what to do about… Well. She would at least have something to _say_ about everything that served to stress him out, yet did nothing each passing, dazed day.

It was a grief he did not even expect. He felt in mourning, but quietly and drawn out, like stretching fabric to the point of the threads never settling back to normal again. But in the past, it would just rip. Just an angry rip, and he would be pushed to the back when the Big Guy came out.

It was too quiet now. The Compound was too quiet, too lonely. Bruce felt so alone. He tapped the side of his water glass with uncharacteristically still hands.

Minutes could have passed, or it could have been seconds before those very hands jolted, water sloshing over the side of the glass and onto the countertop at the boisterous call of his name. “Banner! It’s good to see you up and well!”

“Oh, hey, Thor…” Bruce chuckled quietly to himself, getting up to grab a hand towel from the hook by the sink, a small smile tugging at previously taut drawn lips.

Taking the seat beside where Bruce had been, Thor ignored the hideous scraping sound on the floor as he pulled it out far enough to accommodate the length of his legs. That radiant grin never wavered on his face, the blinding gesture aimed directly at the fidgety man. “Sleep schedule turning out alright, then? I’ve been up all night, or, well, for a few hours when I woke up…”

“Yeah, yeah. My space-lag seems to be fixed, at least back to what it was here. You know how Tony and I are.” Bruce turned to face the god beside him and propped an elbow on the counter, toes bracing on the upper rung of the barstool. “Thanks for asking.”

“Ah, yes, Stark… I take it you intend to stay here with him for the foreseeable future?”

He nodded curtly, running a hand through dark hair and fixating his stare on the granite beneath his arm. “I think so, yeah. I mean, this is – this is my home.” The pause was long enough to allow a brief, sympathetic wince. “Sorry… But, are you going to stay for awhile, too? I mean, this place is for all of us.”

It was, really. And Bruce hoped Thor knew that. He had been worried since what had come to pass on Asgard, the destruction of a place Thor harbored an endless reservoir of pride and love for…

The fear, the anger he had seen that day, Bruce had never forgotten, because never before had he seen such a perfect mirror of his own. Helpless, but endless, all-encompassing and transformative. And in a way, respected. A duality hidden by the god’s good nature and the scientist’s timidity.

Bruce tore himself from philosophy to focus on the present. Thor seemed happy now, relieved to have saved thousands, to have them safe and on course to land and become citizens of Earth, but there was still… Something unsatisfactory. His impaired gaze wandered, searching for something, and Bruce wished he knew what it was. Wished he could help. But really, how could he with something so monumental?

After a moment of unburdened thought, Thor answered with little apprehension. “I intend to stay, certainly. Although, just until I am satisfied that you are settled in, and all is well, and until we can get each of my people documented and established here, as Stark said they must be… I did not think political negotiations would be such a concern, but I would do anything to secure a new home for each Asgardian. So,” his grin turned lopsided, joking, “unless Loki were to cause some trouble, there would be no reason for my early departure. And in that case, I could just send him back to Valkyrie.”

“She might just kill him if you do that! Thor, don’t let me hold you back if you really must go for royal business.” Despite protesting, another laugh broke through Bruce’s belabored sigh.

All in good humor, creases formed at the corners of Thor’s good eye when his nose scrunched to match the broadening beam. “That is true, but I truly think, deep down, Loki is beginning to take heed of what I say. He’s mellowed out considerably now that he’s not being particularly cast aside. I would even posit that he’s less inclined to stir up too much trouble – mind you, still a decent amount, but not much more.”

Thor believed it, and honestly, Bruce did too. While Loki remained a handful, it was nothing more troublesome than any of the others; sure, evil conquest aside, even friends like Tony had seen rough patches for attitude and insensitivity. And then, Bruce had fought by Loki’s side on the Rainbow Bridge, against a greater evil. He had felt the camaraderie Thor often put such trust in. Bruce once again nodded in concession.

“So, uh,” he felt the need to clarify, if only for himself, “you _are_ planning to stay awhile, then?” _Because that would be nice._

Politeness softened Thor’s posture, his brow and grin relaxing to an expression akin to fondness. “If it is alright that I remain in your company.”

 _Oh, well._ “That’s… That’s good. Yeah, you can stay. And…” Bruce trailed off.

He did not mean to let the conversation come to such a quick end. Bruce panicked, searching for words and things to say and what to feel. Too much swarmed his head at once, like buzzing bees of emotion and logic, but he had to articulate at least one feeling from the past few minutes that had crossed his mind. “You should rest, too. With everything that has happened… And, Thor?”

The god leaned forward, the stars shining in his deep blue eye. “Yes?”

“We can get better together. I’m not there, I’m not totally good, yet, I’m gonna be the first to call that out. But you can stay, and we can get there together, if you’re… since you’re staying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> Also, thank you for making it through so much exposition!! I wanted to make sure that I really solidified the timeline for y'all coming in to read this, since the plot diverges and reconnects intermittently with the canon timeline, as well as mentions of magical theory and whatnot. 
> 
> Point is, worry not! Our favorite sorcerer will drop into the story quite soon! Or, I suppose Loki may drop into his story... because daily life is a story in and of itself, is it not?
> 
> Follow me on social media! Tumblr @aegir-emblem, Twitter @thirthfloor! Love y'all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki manages an escape from the confines of the Compound, only to be detected by another and plucked from where he stands. Rather than falling for thirty minutes, he is dropped gently onto a sofa.

There was rarely a suitable remedy to Loki’s ennui when it gathered as exponentially as it had in the short time on Midgard. Initially, he had thoroughly enjoyed the peace and quiet, how that time enabled the plotting and planning for future arrangements; nothing nefarious at the moment – he surely hadn’t gotten to that point, not yet. But the silence so far had been a blissful reprieve from the last months with Thor, and was more than he had expected when residing under the same roof as Stark, and that child. Although the child was admittedly, miraculously, far less of a bother than the grown man.

But despite theoretical freedom, there was an element so disturbingly akin to the time spent in the lower prisons on Asgard. It could be the white walls, the pale, fluorescent lighting that he wished wouldn’t buzz like so, or merely the element of being isolated with naught more but his own thoughts for entertainment. The nagging grief remained, or guilt, whichever it was, and Loki definitely spent a fair share of his quiet hours repressing those feelings as aggressively as one could muster.

The very difference, though, between imprisonment on Asgard and isolation on Midgard was simply in the word; had he left his cell, a fate of execution potentially awaited, depending whose blade or watchful gaze he fell under. On the contrary, assuming no alien armies arose, and no catastrophic destruction was caused, Loki couldn’t _entirely_ see the harm in slipping out of the current premises for some air. Rules varied here, should he choose to abide by them, and dull as Midgard may be, it was larger than the confines of a silent room.

Silent, pounding, scratching silence. It was comforting at first, but the imposing presence purely of himself and lack thereof anything else to concentrate on made that silence so grating. This hush was dampening, not enlightening. Especially in the sense that it would be _so_ easy to escape from.

Loki had anticipated more of a challenge from the security of Stark’s property. While he detested the man and his falsities, inconsistencies, the god had learned to appreciate what effort existed; and, he acknowledged that Stark’s mind was fascinating. By that extent, he was honestly disappointed, offended, even, to find no sort of balances to lock the fissures vulnerable to access by Loki’s type of unearthly energy. 

Instead, he had left a copy of himself in the bedroom, and after a moment to check and recheck any sort of safeguards, Loki simply teleported himself off the boundaries of the property. The destination was a pavement sidewalk just beyond the furthermost end of the trees, the Compound, nowhere in sight through the thick foliage. And the god was incredulous – if not suspicious – of _how_ easy the fleeing action had turned out to be.

Save for some scattered leaves taken weakly in the crisp air of March, the path was clean. Winter competed as the primary season in upstate New York, a chill that just managed to be tangible cutting through with the lazy breeze. Not that the cold bothered Loki in the slightest.

His clothing glistened a thin thread of emerald before transitioning to something more mundane, albeit dark, not that criticism would be accepted were a fool so tempted to toss it his way. Loki put his hands in his pockets, slender fingers trembling with an excitement from the routine spacial energy that had gone a shocking duration of time without being utilized. Walking, he allowed the rhythmic sound of shoes on pavement become hypnotic, calming rather than the imposing annoyance the same footsteps made when pacing, reverberating off closed walls.

Moments later, his paces came to a halt, right foot out and heel meeting empty air. Loki had heard the crackle before stepping forward, but momentum damned him and there was nothing more which could be done. He closed his eyes when he fell.

And opened them abruptly, upon _landing_ somewhere, pale green darting around the new space. When he’d expected to be suspended in nothingness for a half hour, again, being seated upright on a supple leather sofa as if only plucked from one place and set down in another was a disturbingly harmless surprise.

The floor-to-ceiling windows, curtained with rich, heavy fabrics, generated a magnificent silhouette of the desk and chair before him. The walls, entirely lined with bookshelves, were of a dark, shining wood that concentrated the light within the space towards the center, giving the area an appearance of one more spacious than it was. The room was silent, another four-walled, silent room – only the static of this silence was new. Loki inhaled slowly through his nose, and fresh intensity burned his nostrils. Attempts to relax or recline failed, as he continued to sit stiff on the edge of the seat, like a pupil called into discipline for misbehavior.

Stephen Strange did not look up from his meticulous scribe work to speak. “I would hate to hear that you’ve lost track of another family member.” A few rogue locks of ebony hair fell over his brow, and Loki smirked at their defiance of the human sorcerer’s statuesque cut image.

“What, no endless pits this time?” The curl of his lips aided in a nonchalant delivery, Loki finally leaning back on the sofa and crossing one leg over the other slowly. They spoke as if this happened frequently, acquaintances debriefing on time spent apart, when in reality Loki’s blood boiled at the interruption. He was sure the _sorcerer_ felt the same.

“No. I don’t need to speak with anyone besides you, this time.” With two satisfying scratches, Strange crossed the T’s in his signature before firmly setting the pen down on the desk. Mindful of the drying ink, he folded his hands gingerly and at last raised his gaze to meet the god’s from across the space between them. Calculating and professional, as usual. “Why are you here? I’ve detected no concerning traces of your brother aside from the coming of the Bifrost two weeks ago, but you’ve done a remarkable job of not destroying anything… So, what’s the story?”

Loki took his time looking Strange over. His physical appearance had not changed much in the previous year since their last encounter, but something in his confidence felt more concrete. Any additional year of study would have improved his technique immensely, especially for such a _novice_ , so of course the exponential change was noticeable. Or it could simply be that this was already becoming a longer interaction than their entire first meeting. Loki kept from rolling his eyes.

“I have been trapped in a Compound with Tony Stark and my fool of a brother for that entire time,” he said. “Can I be blamed for escaping?”

“Ah.”

The charming smile came as innocently as Loki could muster. Strange returned the gesture, tense and apathetic. At the sight, a sound like sparks popped somewhere in the back of Loki’s mind; he flexed his hands warily.

“When will you be returning to Asgard?” Strange continued, “If you could give me some… framework, that would make _my_ job _much_ easier.” Standing, straightening his papers with a tap on the desk, and rising to browse one of the bookshelves. His movements were tracked by a cold blue gaze.

Removing one of the leather-bound volumes (red, less worn, perhaps a personal studies journal), Strange waved his hand absently behind himself. On command, the papers he’d just completed drifted over from the work surface and nestled themselves neatly into the spine of the open book.

Loki watched with a begrudging interest. He forced it down, favoring to answer the question however sourly instead of making a new inquiry. “I do not have plans in the near future to leave this place, my apologies for the inconvenience.”

“You do not? Is this because of Thor or because you have personal intent? And, allow me to remind you that it would be in your best interests to tell me now, as it is my job to not only secure the safety of this realm and others but also allow for the swiftest and smoothest methods for things natural to exist.” Strange tilted his head then, his attention briefly drifting back to Loki to glance him over, something like an offer almost tempting in that expression. “So, if you _just_ can’t help yourself from causing chaos, I am obligated to aid you in that… catharsis, that it may come about in the least damaging way possible.”

Loki scoffed. “I am the God of Mischief, be careful what you sign yourself up for. Your cheap tricks may not be able to keep up.”

The sorcerer was remiss in regarding him then, focus directed back towards rearranging the book removed from the shelf among the others. His response came lightly, passively. “I assure you that I can hold my own.”

“ _Really?_ ” Offended, disrespected, Loki stood. He had been brought here and the man responsible had not even the time to look at him? _Did he not feel threatened, bothered, concerned even?_ He reached within his coat, drawing out a blade, silver and sleek as the odd strip of the same shade in Strange’s hair.

It was an illusion, of course, Loki was oddly not in the mood to harm anyone today, but he wondered so desperately what would happen. Perhaps whatever did would be impetus to set him in that thrilling, dangerous state of mind. He brandished the blade with a calm boldness.

Still, Strange did not look his way. Loki huffed, growing more frustrated by the second.

Ultimately, then, the scarlet cloak finely – although asymmetrically – settled on the man’s shoulders shifted. The god blinked in surprise, momentarily offput, before glaring at the seemingly sentient cloth too. The Cloak tugged at its master’s shoulders, lightly at first and then more fervently, an edge gesturing towards Loki, and more pointedly, the dagger still clutched in his hand.

Strange sighed quietly, annoyed, before finally looking over. He stared, still for a moment, then rose an eyebrow. “You’re going to stab your host? Don’t be like that, I expected more.”

He snapped the book shut and placed it on his desk, in a few strides crossing the room to stand before his guest. His pale eyes, a magnificent mix of greens and blues, held a challenge in them. _Do it. I dare you._ How juvenile.

So, the god smirked and flicked the knife in the air, flipping it around to aim the blade directly at himself. “How is your healing magic, Doctor? It would be a pity if you couldn’t save someone.”

Again, that silence with the buzzing energy. That static hung in the air, anticipating a movement within it. Loki wanted more of it, the tingling sensation of this energy against his skin; new, stimulating, unexplored. He forced himself to hold still, hold eye contact, and keep his own energies in check.

He wondered if Strange felt it, too. Simply curious, if it were merely himself reacting to this place, or if it were the man himself. The man who wrapped long fingers around Loki’s upheld wrist and slowly lowered the blade to the side, away from them both.

“I don’t need magic to perform a surgery, but I can use it in its favour. Please, don’t do anything rash, the hardwood has just been buffed.” His furrowed brows twitched ever slightly.

As soon as the knife was to the side, it disappeared. Strange looked at Loki’s empty hand, still gripping his wrist firmly. Loki looked at it as well, then back up at the sorcerer. And while the god was more deeply flattered than he would like to consider that someone would actually try to stop him from potentially self-destructive behavior… well, the man really could let go of his arm, now.

He did not, because of course not. _Why would he? This was not odd at all._ Strange stared at the empty hand within his before looking up to its owner, a thoughtful murkiness in his gaze that Loki felt unnerved, exposed. That feeding curiosity, then, he _must_ feel it too, feel its prickle and draw, like an itch pleading to be scratched. The buzzing energy.

“Your illusions… Are they a manipulation of physical atoms or an element of the viewer’s mind? Are you actually conjuring something or just changing what we see?”

Something surged within Loki, a proud urge to speak. It broke past whatever petty walls he’d built from spite of the interruption to his day, leaping to his silver tongue, making it traitorously loose. “I can do many things. Objects,” he pulled a book from the empty air, holding it up with his spare hand, “these are relatively easy to create, if you know what you’re doing. But living beings,” a few copies of himself appeared long enough to laugh before dissolving, “are much more difficult to make real. It is easier to manipulate people than reality when it comes to complex things.”

The glint of interest in Strange’s eyes that shone through that contemplative murkiness gave him away. Loki’s ego, ignited by discussion of his talent and passion, bolstered even further when the man replied. “It seems that where your energy focuses on manipulation, mine is more… symbiotic. Drawing from other dimensions and realms of space, and even time. That is why they are causing friction now. Surely you can taste the metal.”

Loki paused to match the descriptor to the static he felt around them. He tasted something tinny, like the water from cheap goblets when it came time for Odin and his mother to commission the replacement of the table sets. _Oh… it was strong._ He nodded, slowly conceding. “Yes. The static… tastes like metal.”

“How interesting.”

Loki quickly continued before that _metallic_ silence could settle in once more as a lingering memory. “Manipulation, lies, deception. My specialties.”

“Seems faulty, doesn’t it?” Strange countered, too quickly for Loki to not feel slighted again. “Once someone knows your antics, they can see right through it. That is, if it’s barely even real.”

Scowling, Loki’s glare did not do much to shoot down Strange’s growing smirk. Yet that curiosity kept uncoiling, compelling him to _keep_ indulging him, to keep answering to make room for new queries. “An element of it is real, and I never reveal all my cards. A millennium gone, and I still have tricks up my sleeves. Plus, there’s always new ones to learn.”

He had forgotten that Strange still held his wrist until it was released, that brilliant scarlet cloak swishing dramatically as its owner strode past his guest to the doorway of the study. “I suppose there is,” he said, then paused. “Which is why… I wonder if you’d consider joining me for tea?”

Genuinely surprised, Loki blinked doubtfully, flexing and unflexing his hands warily again, especially considering the one that had been held… His wrist tingled, down to his fingertips. “I don’t need pity.”

“It’s not pity. Consider it a study.” Strange assured. “I’m a doctor, after all, I didn’t get here without asking questions, learning. Study and practice.”

He was not lying. Loki could tell that much from merely a glance. He tilted his head. “Will we be dining here? I’m afraid I am still not overly popular with the masses.”

Strange nodded and opened the door. “Of course, that was the intended arrangement. It is usually preferable to discuss matters like this, of the… _mystic_ , within the privacy of closed quarters. If you’ll follow me?”

And he stood to the side, gesturing for Loki to exit first. Whether the intent was courteous or cautionary, the god was once more colored surprised, averting his gaze to maintain a cool demeanor even as he took the offer graciously.

“Most people are less… accepting, of what they cannot understand, yes. Even on Asgard, that held true.”

“As is the folly. With free thought comes free judgement.”

The sorcerer led him through more dark hallways, lit by rich but dim lighting, sometimes electric and sometimes candlelit. The building seemed much larger than what Loki presumed it appeared from the outside, but the layout was straightforward enough to be mapped in his head. They emerged from the lower East Wing, and turned towards the back of the building where the formal and informal dining areas awaited. Then, Strange instead gestured to a door, revealing a room beneath the massive staircase. A cosy, but modestly sized sitting room.

On the tablebasse, between a sofa and two armchairs, a set of tea awaited them. A tiered sweet tray sat beside it. Loki observed it warily while entering.

“Do you create the food, or is it summoned?” After taking a seat on the far cushion of the sofa, Loki plucked a cracker from the tray and examined its simple surface closely.

Removing the Cloak, Strange sat in the armchair opposite his guest. The clothing relic itself hovered nearby before folding itself neatly in the free seat, like a domestic cat curling up for a long nap. “Little bit of both,” the sorcerer commented after watching his Cloak settle in comfortably. “It was in the kitchen, preparing itself before I even asked you. Then, I sent it here through a gap in this dimension’s fabrics.”

He held one hand up, fingers delicately expecting something, before the lid to the sugar tin disappeared from its base on the table to reappear in his waiting hand. “Smaller portals, basically,” he finished.

“I see.”

As if only to show off, Strange watched for Loki’s reaction with a shrewd, fascinating attention and he waved his hand. When the tea dishes raised and poured themselves, Strange took his cup and saucer; one sugar added.

Loki took his own tea, and after a cautious sip determined it to shockingly exceed his standards, at least in expectation. That silence came back, that buzzing silence. It was softer now, perhaps quelled and satisfied by the teases of their intellectual discussion… Which, Loki recalled, should be continuing right now. Pale blue eyes flicked over to the god’s host, and instead met a stare as well. Loki reclined ever so slightly, angling his chin upwards to look down the length of his nose as judgmentally as he could manage while still remaining somewhat courteous. “Don’t humans consider it rude to stare?”’

“Sometimes, between strangers. But I think we’ve established enough of an acquaintance for it to be warranted.” Strange did shift his gaze, though, and sipped his own tea out of a slight respect. That, or simply an observance that nothing new was happening just yet. Loki decided against changing that at the very moment.

“Then, as lovely as the tea is, I do believe a study involves asking questions, which requires talking. If you’re so inclined to start,” it was Loki’s turn to examine him, observing stiff posture despite being seated back in the armchair, a tension that lie rooted somewhere in his spine… He frowned, a root of confusion nestling in the back of his mind to be dealt with later. “I am hardly an open book, but despite first impressions, I am not always intentionally obstinate.”

“There is an element of observation in initial studies,” Strange justified, then conceded to the transition of topics by briefly setting his teacup back in the saucer. “I’ve learned briefly of your mother, how she is well known as a sorceress of her own. For Asgardians in particular, are your techniques able to be taught or must you be born with an inclination, an aptitude for them?”

A short exhale, a huff silenced by manners. “ _Magic_ is an advanced form of science on Asgard, they are one and the same… There are simple elements of it involved in many daily parts of life, though very few choose to learn the mystic arts beyond that.” Loki delicately set his cup down as well. “Many of the abilities were originally taught to the Aesir by the light elves, though Asgardian history conveniently forgets the fact.”

Strange shifted his posture, propping one elbow on the arm of his seat. “Asgardian history – very selective, it seems. That’s unfortunate, but not uncommon anywhere, either.”

“It seems to be a universal problem, and quite an extensive one. Historically, all people are ungrateful.”

“We can agree on that.” The sorcerer took a moment of the silence, that dully buzzing silence, to ponder their commonality. He took a drink of tea.

Loki considered his host, and the otherwise civil nature of their engagement. It was different from their first meeting, in which he’d been plucked from the sidewalk and suspended in a void for an unpleasant amount of time… He thought that Strange would have been more cautious, considering this was his second visit within the same year, when instead a steady confidence radiating from the man created a calm environment for their dialogue.

His expression softened, calculating curiosity paving way for social interest. “You are relatively new to this field, are you not?” The question remained vague, open to be answered with remarks on labelled heroism or just Strange’s mystical studies. Information on either response would be satisfactory.

Strange’s brows lifted slightly, pleasantly surprised by the basic muse. “I am,” he said, “in the grand scheme of things. But it is only in some cases that time in the field equates to experience. I am in no way a novice, but I continue to learn and improve with each passing day. There is no such thing as perfection.”

“Where did you learn?” Loki further posed his thoughts. “There are hardly – _wizards_ ,” cringed, disgusted at the word, “all over this city. I can imagine it would have made my invasion mildly more difficult if there were.”

“Mildly. I studied at Kamar-Taj, a location in Nepal. But there are schools all over the world. As a society, we’ve grown comfortable blending in, and few serve the broader order anyways. Once the main portion is completed, it is up to independent study from then on. That’s also attributable to the reasoning behind seeking knowledge, for some, they only go for healing…” He trailed off then, gathering his thoughts, and briefly set down his tea saucer to rub his hands together. Loki watched his eyes, as they sought about the room with an intelligent sharpness, before once more meeting his own. “Whereas in my case, I discovered a passion. Aided by talent, of course.”

Loki quipped to tease the smug smirk that appeared on Strange’s lips. “Oh, _naturally_.”

That earned a glare at the attitude, though it was hardly unexpected. “Regardless, had I not been a surgeon at the time, I would not have been present in New York at the time of your attack. Masters of the Mystic Arts specifically deal with that, mystic and metaphysical threats within the multiverse rather than physical threats that the Avengers can handle on their own. Messily, but… Earth is still standing.”

“Rather surprising, if you ask me.” Loki rolled his eyes, his scoff sending tiny ripples across the surface of the tea within the cup, daintily raised to his lips.

He did not proceed to drink it, instead blinking in surprise when his cleverly indignant insult received a hearty chuckle from his reserved, poised host. “Again, I can agree with you on that,” Strange confirmed, that gleam in his pale eyes shining brighter.

The teacup clinked softly when it was set back in the saucer. Loki gaped, “No rousing defense for Midgard? For _America?_ ” He put on his _best_ exaggerated American accent, much like the Captain he so adored to mock.

“Well, it is only logical.” Strange said it as if it were the simplest thing, and really… it was, to Loki. Another commonality. “I understand the limits of natural things. In our reality, Earth doesn’t have the strengths that other planets do, our galaxy is weak. But knowing your weakness is the best way to prepare in defense.”

The quiet rustling of fabric, matching that energy’s static, sounded as Loki sat forward on the edge of the sofa. He placed his now finished teacup back on the center coffee table. “What would be Midgard’s first line of defense, in your scenario?”

“I’m afraid there is no sure way to plan that. Of course, there are ways to optimize reaction… but Earth’s biggest weakness is that it’s isolated.” _Precisely why it was the target, yes. And why so many dangerous artifacts seem to find their way here._ “Both intentionally and geographically, such a young planet with such close-minded, dependent people, and such a large population, we don’t have many allies out there. Earth is easy prey for conquerors, although it is difficult to comprehend why here of all places.” _Should they be in need of a reason, truly, when a planet be so exposed?_ “It cannot be changed overnight, so the defense lies in what we have. And – fortunately, or not – that’s Stark and the Avengers.” _Ew._ But oh, they agreed.

Strange sighed, and Loki smirked. His analysis was astute, painfully so, as it accented all the flaws and none of the ways those could be remedied. Not that Loki had any particular ideas, nor care, either. “As half of those _Avengers_ are currently missing, that does not look promising for your odds.”

“We’re lucky there is no imminent threat, then.” Strange inclined his head, looking down on Loki with an expression that could only be suspiciously critical. “Unless you have a date circled on your calendar?”

So much for friendly conversation, then. Loki had been – dare he say – _enjoying_ himself, but alas, these were not pleasantries to be upkept. Just prying insight to his plans, suspicion to his character, everything he was tempted to be just to satisfy the image these people held as his esteem. Luckily for Loki himself, he now felt no guilt for what he’d been concentrating on for nearly the past hour.

Upstairs, he dissolved his snooping copies, and presently put on an innocent expression. “If something happens, I assure you, my hands are clean.”

Strange nodded, less in agreement and more in dubious acknowledgement of what his guest promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! Leaved a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> Y'all!! Y'ALL. Stephen's here!!!!! He's here!! My boy!!!!!!!!
> 
> You guys do not even KNOW how much FUN I had writing this chapter!!!! I really hope y'all liked it because there are going to be MANY more like this in the future, I think, this was - omg this was soooo fun. I love them. I love them very much.
> 
> Also, I spent A LOT of time working on my own theorizations and descriptions of the magic, the Multiverse, and all of those technical world-building things... that being said, if y'all have questions or just want to chitchat about it, leave a comment below or HMU on social media!! Tumblr @aegir-emblem and Twitter @thirthfloor !!
> 
> Love you guys so much!! Drink some water, hydrate while I write the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki reads a stolen book, and Thor stops by to claim victory of their gamble.

Loki flipped through the pages of the thick tome, the refurbished paper strong and decorated with fine print and glistening annotations. The faux ink that shown in Strange’s slanted handwriting was golden, like the words of ancient holy texts when scribed by the silence of devout monks. The writing was not directly on the pages, nary in a way that would damage them, but instead hovered just above the surface, and could be hidden with the swipe of a hand should one wish to absorb the knowledge merely from the primary text itself. The god found that he rather enjoyed comparing the doctor’s notes to his own analysis, and turned the page with two fingers pressed thoughtfully to his lips.

He had been engrossed in the reading material for the majority of this day, and the last, and the one before that. On ordinary occasions, it would not take Loki this long to get through a book, even one this size, but the material was… _perplexing_. It contradicted some base logic and more than a few core understandings; and of course, there was the notations, Strange had practically written a separate manuscript of his own interpretations and methodology in that faux ink, that lovely golden scrawl that hovered over the margins.

Thor had been worried, and Loki was aware of this, as well. Mentioning it briefly in his routine greeting visits, Thor suggested that he was concerned about the reclusiveness as of late – not that it was entirely out of the ordinary, for his little brother – simply because of the fact that he had known the second Loki left the grounds and the moment he returned. The brotherly side of his ceaseless loyalty fretted for Loki’s personal wellbeing, whether he was indulging in self-care practices or self-destructive ones; and the fighting side of him, the side that thought with muscle over brain, fretted on an Avengers level. He had not known where Loki had gone but had not gotten an answer when he questioned, either.

All to digress, it was no surprise when the knock sounded on the door to Loki’s quarters. No less of a bothersome interruption, though, and Loki sighed, restarting the lengthy paragraph he had been struggling already to decipher.

“Loki, are you in there?” For once Thor did not invite himself in after the knock, instead actually waiting for a confirmation. It was surprisingly courteous, and yet exasperating that they were not simply getting the matter over with.

Loki could hear his big, dopey grin through the door, and hoped against hope that their conversation would remain short and with that barrier in lieu of his brother’s intrusion. “And where else would I be?”

_“I’ll let him in, sir.”_

“FRIDAY, _no_ ,” Loki protested suddenly at her input, scowling ever deeper when the door opened itself and Thor welcomed himself to the room. _Of course,_ the AI preferred the bubbly golden king over his sulking sibling, but there was no reason to _show_ it. Electronics were not supposed to pick favourites. _This was not in the slightest bit fair._ Loki slumped down in his seat, incensed.

“I wanted to see that you were well, Loki,” Thor grinned, crossing the room to stand before his brother, looming over his seat, blocking the light in a way unintentionally frustrating. “I hope you are not too dreadfully bored. What are you reading?” His eye landed on the book in Loki’s hand and he pointed loosely, observing that this volume was much larger than the little novellas Loki usually possessed.

“I believe this is called a _book_ , you may not be familiar.” Loki chided, with all intent to make this as painfully tiresome an experience as he could.

Only to his dismay, Thor hardly registered the insult. “Of course I know that, brother, but this is a different one. Usually you have little books.”

One large hand reached down and tilted the cover up before Loki could pull it back, and the younger god of the two slapped his hand away. A familiar gesture from when they were children, and this sort of intrusive thing happened all the time. Yet again, Thor did not comment on the attitude, his heavy brow instead furrowing in realization when he recognized the insignia on the cover.

“Is this one of Stephen Strange’s books?”

“It was in his possession at one point, yes… Don’t look at me like that. I am simply borrowing it.”

Loki groaned when Thor’s bright smile then turned the slightest bit teasing. “I told you that you would make a friend! Tell me, what are you reading about?” He tried once more to snag the volume from Loki’s hands, out of personal curiosity but also a bullying playfulness to seek his brother’s reaction.

Indeed, Loki clutched the book to his chest in that familiar protective reflex, as he protectively had as children when Thor tried to take his things. Glowering, Loki bit out, “He and I are hardly _friends_. It was a singular conversation.”

“For an entire afternoon – yes, I remember your absence – and now you’ve taken his things. It is much more than I expected from you, I’m quite proud, Loki!” Warmly, Thor chuckled to himself. Clearly, by his standards, he believed he’d won their little gamble.

Loki looked mildly disgusted. “I… I really do not see stealing as a sign of friendship.”

“But you used to steal things from me all of the time!”

“What does that say, then?”

“Don’t be rude like that, now, brother!” Thor took his hand from his wounded heart and gestured innocently then with both arms. “Regardless, surely you do not intend to keep this book for good, and if you are going to return it, then it is just _borrowing_. Friends borrow things from one another all the time!”

Loki rolled his eyes behind closed eyelids, frustration causing heat to prickle at his cold skin, along with something else, some _embarrassment_. Damn Thor and his stupid ribbing. “There is an implication of liking each other in the word ‘friend’.”

“But, alas, you have not denied liking him!”

Thor continued to haze, enjoying himself too much with this teasing and taunting; Loki grit his teeth, refusing to agree regardless how right or how wrong some of these outrageous claims may be. “It is _mutual respect_ at best.”

“That is better than nothing! So, I win, don’t I? Within two weeks, you have made a friend, dear brother.” Within an instant, his grin transitioned from irritatingly positive to _infuriatingly_ triumphant.

“ _You_ did not find me a –” Catching his outburst in time, Loki took a steadying breath, spoke slower, “– a _not_ friend. So, I win, actually. You lost.” Punctuated the victory with a smug smirk.

“Well,” Thor shrugged, and Loki’s face fell at the lack of impact his claim of victory held, _his brother really was growing too humble,_ “there was no prize involved, so it does not really matter anyway.” _Ah, not entirely, it seemed._ “I can leave you to read your borrowed book, so you may finish and return it sooner.”

Upon turning his back, Loki hissed. “I will stab you with naught a regret.”

Thor spun on his heel and bellowed out raucous laughter, proceeding to exit backwards out of the room to not leave himself exposed to any attacks. “I said I was leaving, worry not!”

“Close the door behind you, please.”

His hand was on the doorknob. Loki stared. Thor grinned. Loki growled. Thor let go and left, his laughter following him down the corridor.

Releasing an audibly frustrated snarl, Loki slammed the large book shut and stormed to the door, swinging it open and hanging on the knob and frame to lean into the hallway and shout to his retreating brother, “ _No_ regrets, Thor, remember that!” He straightened back into the safety of the room. “FRIDAY, slam the door.”

_“I am afraid I cannot do that, sir. Take a few deep breaths to calm down, but I can soundproof the walls if you would like to shout?”_

“No, what, I – _argh!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you liked it - I respond to each and every one!!! I love to hear back from you guys!!
> 
> Wow!! Only five chapters in and this is already becoming one of my most ambitious projects, ever!! Any encouragement y'all could offer would be amazing, I have so much planned!!!
> 
> HMU on social media, Tumblr @aegir-emblem and Twitter @thirthfloor if you guys wanna talk Multiverse, Marvel, StrangeFrost, or just chitchat!!! I want to hear from you guys!! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange realizes a book from his library is missing. Loki asks about portals.

It took around 50 hours for Strange to realise his book had been stolen. Not from negligence, but merely the fact that he had no need for it since he last put it away – and in truth, he had little need of it now, either. But here, reorganizing the shelves, taking a relaxing afternoon for some calming busywork after a frustrating morning, his eyes settled on the condemning gap on the bookcase.

The part of him that carried over that dissatisfaction from the morning scolded for not knowing sooner, but rational thought warred to keep his delicate mood in check. Strange sighed and raised a hand to his forehead, pushing it back through his hair like the exhale that dragged itself out of his lungs, and justified that he’d been duped. Still annoying, but not particularly his fault when the counterpart was a trickster god himself.

The moment Strange’s hands were free from their soothing ministrations, they drifted forward in a lazy spiral motion. The portal would open in the parlor under the stairs, its sister end some miles upstate. The sorcerer turned on his heel and strode steadily downstairs.

His footsteps sounded on the grand hardwood staircase; a dull, but rich and stable weight resonating throughout the front entryway. And the god in the quaint room behind and beneath them called out at their welcome, “I feel as though there should be a politer way to request my company.”

Soon enough, Strange entered the room with a sweeping motion of the Cloak straightening itself on his shoulders. It wiggled its collar, and if he were not on a mission to recover a manuscript, Strange would have scoffed at the relic questioningly. As if it were _delighted_ to see their guest for the _second_ time that week.

Loki clutched the very book to his chest, seated with legs crossed tightly on the same sofa he had chosen on their last visit. Irritated, inconvenienced – but there was an edged, startled flare to his nostrils, nerves settling from being dropped through space yet again, no less caught for his offense to the Sanctum.

“You stole from me, I think I’m entitled to your immediate company,” Strange stated instead, curtly. He held out an expectant hand. “Please return it, I have work to do.”

Loki stared him down, that pale gaze wide and scrutinizing. If Strange did not know better, he would say the god were undressing him with that stare – but no, it was more as if he were being skinned alive. The sorcerer tilted his chin up, glaring down his slender nose, unfazed. His hand remained outstretched, fingertips tingling.

Instead, Loki slipped his hand delicately between the pages, opening the book to a memorized location. At last, the tension of that entrenched gaze melted away with a simple glance down to the yellowed pages. “I did have some questions about the theory, while I’m here… Your notes were very insightful, by the way, I was _almost_ impressed by the capacity of the human brain.”

Now, the sorcerer did scoff. Rooted to the spot, he waited for his guest to grow bored with this childish game. When instead, a moment of earnest silence passed, rippling with that curious energy from before, Strange’s expression faltered. This honest inquiry stirred something, more within the air and something deep within him, embedded behind his solar plexus at the base of energy’s core.

He made his way to the armchair, pressured by that silence, by that murky buzzing like sonar under water. Blinking slowly, he wondered how hard it would be to see the god’s magnificent aura. Stephen Strange cleared his throat. “Well? What are your questions?”

Smirking, satisfied at getting his way, Loki sat forward in his seat. “The portals are holes in the fabric of space time, but you are not tearing it, creating the rifts yourself in order to make use of them. So, explain what you are _really_ doing. Thoroughly.” He paused. “Please.”

 _Oh._ A description of theory… Strange muttered, figuring out on the spot how to articulate the feeling that had become so natural. “Everything I do, consider it _borrowing_.” But it was learned, after all, and he drew back on the memories of early days at Kamar-Taj when the sensation and concept itself had been so foreign. “When we conjure our portals, we use a Sling Ring, which allows us to concentrate more interdimensional energy than we ordinarily can on our own. That’s what we use tools and relics for, for focus. The Sling Ring allows us to draw and pinpoint from all different dimensions of the two locations simultaneously in order to line up those very fabrics to generate the gap.”

What confidence Strange held in his succinct explanation fizzled into mild displeasure when Loki’s thin brows drew together, befuddled. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled, clearly struggling with the admittance, “How can drawing from… different realities create such a precise, simple cancellation in this one?”

“Picture it like this.” Sitting forward as well, the armchair creaking with the shift, Strange grabbed some coasters from the coffee table and laid them out carefully in even rows of three. “On the left side, these are all versions of this sitting room. Our present dimension is the middle one. But, in two other dimensions, it may be a different time of day, or raining outside. Same place, different version. And the other side,” this transition was accented with a pointed tap to the right-hand coasters, “this is the other end of the portal. Same concept – one place, different versions.”

“I see.” Loki was frustrated, but the gears in his head were clearly turning, rather than halted at a standstill.

Strange hummed in approval at the gradual understanding, a small smile tugging at his lips. A thrill shot through his mind, reminding him of seminar days when he had been called to universities to lecture nursing students in the amphitheater. It felt a lifetime ago. “Now, we can line up these separate three verses… to make them two interdimensional versions of the same location.” In the pause, each respective row of coasters stacked atop each other. “And now that they are organized, we can combine them.”

Strange stacked all six coasters to one. Loki watched him with undivided attention. The sorcerer continued, “All into one portalled location. An atom’s width apart from each other. And that is why it’s important to clearly picture each location, otherwise the conjuring would not work.”

Licking his lips briefly to wet them, the god’s pale eyes flicked up to meet Strange’s own. He was processing still, understanding, and adopting this new accommodation to the best of his present ability. “And if you were to get it wrong?” He asked.

“Then the portal would not form. The mind guides the conjuring, and the Sling Ring helps balance and configure the dimensions. And the portal not appearing… that’s more likely than you ending up somewhere else, a 90 – 10 odds distribution on the frequency of failed trials.” Strange paused then, considering an accident or two he had heard of from some of his older colleagues. “With… a little slivered chance that you may cut off the portal too early and sever yourself.”

The air prickled as Loki sat straighter. His eyebrows shot up, any attempt at nonchalance was betrayed by the shift of balance in his energy. “That would be unfortunate,” he mused, “though, perhaps useful if the action were intentional.”

Chuckling softly at his enthrallment, Strange felt a swell of performative pride he hadn’t felt for some time; the feeling stuck in the air, intermingling with the static and thickening it like sugar caramelizing. “I’ve cut off a few hostile arms in my time, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Loki looked as if he wanted for those stories, his brow twitching upward curiously and his thin lips parting ever so slightly. But, catching himself, that innocent expression was quickly replaced by a neutral one. “I believe you had work to do? I’ll return the… _borrowed_ … property.” 

There was a stumble over that adjective as the god recalled something, inclining his head ever so slightly with a sour expression. Regardless, he held out the book smugly, taking pride in the success of inconveniencing Strange’s afternoon with conversation.

Which, in truth, the sorcerer did not consider the elaboration in theory to be an inconvenience in the slightest.

Accepting the book, Strange brushed scarred hands over the cover. It was worn, but getting refurbished – a basic text on a basic theory that had changed so much in his own life. A life that he had thought to be extraordinary, yet proved to be basic in its own way. An ignorant life. For all his expertise, and all his knowledge, he still had _no_ idea what was possible…

Loki watched him, silently, like a statue. Strange knew he was taking too long to respond, but when in their two meetings had the flow of conversation been ordinary?

The sorcerer allowed himself a pause to close his eyes, feeling that static in the room crackle and shift, merging with his own pulse. An extension of himself, even in the confines of this room… it reached out to the god, to his energy, and prodded. That power, it was different. Stubborn, depths of confidence radiated along with it. Extraordinary, different, complicated but familiar, well-rehearsed and practiced over centuries. And something lie beneath that confident expertise, something his aura could touch if only he desired to reach out and grasp it…

Strange opened his eyes, rising from his seat and tucking the manuscript beneath his arm. “I do have work to do, apologies for cutting this meeting short. I hope my clarifications served to satisfy your questions.”

“They are satisfactory for now, yes.” Loki stood too, his posture tight and wary. The air rippled about him uncertainly. But, he offered the smallest of polite smiles.

Folding his hands just so, Strange slowly drew a lazy circle in the air, the golden sparks of a portal whipping and crackling into shape, and the opposite side revealed the starch white floors of Loki’s Compound quarters. “Aligning the dimensions, as demonstrated.”

And Loki disappeared from where he stood, reappearing in that bright space through the portal. Hands folded primly behind his back, he leaned down to peer up at Strange. His long, wiry dark hair came untucked behind one ear. “Hardly necessary,” he examined the portal’s lining, covering the right way shift of his fibbing eyes, “though the sentiment is appreciated. And – thank you, for the new reading material, that is.”

The sorcerer hid his surprise well as the new book was waved almost tauntingly, teasingly, on the other side of his portal. But something deeply flattering unsettled any retort or fuss that could surface. “I’ll be taking that back.”

Not now, though, as he huffed indignantly while the portal closed with a concise _zip_. Let the god have his fun, and see what he can comprehend on his own – Strange had questions for himself to be answered, and made his way to the upstairs library, the lack of buzz and hum in the air making the Sanctum so very quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> Wow, I uhhhh.... Really just went out of my way to explain portal theory to myself at 3 am, didn't I? That happens a lot in this fic, I'm just now realizing... WHoop!
> 
> Anyways though, again, thank you all!! I love you guys for reading, and I also love to hear your theories and questions in the comments!! Let me know what y'all think (especially because I'm attempting to conceptualize my own understanding of multiverse techniques)!!
> 
> Follow me on social media! Tumblr @aegir-emblem and Twitter @thirthfloor !!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has questions in the middle of the night.

Loki did not consider himself a thief, not entirely; but his habit of swiping books from the grand libraries and hidden shelves of the Sanctum had done nothing but increase as days turned into weeks, curiosity only exponentially following suit.

The thefts – _borrowing_ – initiated short conversation, brief meetings stolen away from Strange’s busy hours of the day. Short covers of the topics discussed in the volumes, fleeting examples and passing comments on differences in foundation. Momentary as they were, the consultations were engaging, riveting, dare the god say, _something to look forward to_. Loki had learned, conditioned by routine, to eagerly await being swallowed up by a crackling portal roughly two days after taking a new volume. Then, they would review annotations.

It was not difficult to use the golden faux ink, a simple charm put on the writing… and so, Loki had thoroughly taken advantage of blank spaces in the margins. As they were dismissible, he did not fear flushing his observations in full on the pages – questions, explanations, paraphrases and broad notations of his own; some comparison to Asgardian technique was applicable, or other methods Loki had gathered over his years of experience. Discovering the ties and severances between the two was nothing short of enthralling, a motivation Loki had not truly felt since he gave up on earning his father’s admiration some time ago…

Loki lie on his stomach, the weight of the last tome taken too bothersome to hold atop his chest. And he had queries. But it had been less than a day since a copy was sent to steal from the Sanctum; which, by the twitch in his eyelid meant he needed to work this concept out, if sleep was to be expected any time soon.

Loki closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose and envisioning the front parlor. His physical form tingled when the copy materialized, a sensation familiar in its slight discomfort when spatial awareness settled in. Relaxing in bed, Loki allowed the copy full focus to wander about.

He had not searched for Strange’s bedroom before, so it took some wandering and popping in and out of rooms with closed doors before he found the correct one – a steepled room on the West Wing of the second floor.

The sorcerer was asleep, naturally, but… unnaturally, still awake. Loki’s attention was first drawn to where his body rested, enveloped in numerous thick comforters and soundly tucked into the grand bed – but nearby, an iridescent, quiet image of the man hovered just above the armchair. It was a pale blue, cold and muted like stars on a clear night, and sparkled likewise following simple movements, for instance turning a page. The projection held up a finger to Loki’s stunned, silent image, to signal it was busy.

Then its gaze snapped up, mirroring the man’s shock, and the book fell forth from where it floated and collapsed on the ground in a heavy _thud._ Strange shot upright in bed, gasping for air with a surprised shout escaping his lips, when in fight or flight the projection suddenly lurched forward to snap back into the host body.

Loki watched patiently, if not a little bewildered, with his hands folded behind his back. The sorcerer calmed once realizing there was no threat, and the unwelcome guest stayed politely mute still when the man released a heavy, frustrated sigh. Strange rubbed trembling hands over his face.

“You could have knocked, _at least,_ ” he grumbled.

Loki’s brow twitched, the two thin lines drawing together as he stared at those hands. He had not taken much notice to the patterned scarring over them before, nor how they shook. Despite the new intrique, the god managed to peel his eyes away to reply for more pressing matters, “Not really, this is not a physical form.”

“Figures.” Strange took the time now to push his dark, disheveled hair back from his face, and for the second time in only moments, Loki’s eyes wandered to follow the shaking of his fingers. His frown deepened, wondering what exertion must have come from the astral projection, or what anxiety his own presence must have induced to contribute factors to that.

The air felt normal, if not slightly spiked – the signature buzzing, but muted due to the calm, hushed hours of the early morn. Spiked because of Strange’s slowing heartbeat, heavy in his chest but behaving evenly… No signs of irregular anxiety, immense anger, things that would cause physical tremors. If Loki were solidly present, rather than meditating hours away from his copy’s location, he may be able to reach out to the sorcerer’s very feelings…

He had noticed something deep, something aching, the first times they had met; but these things felt like Stephen Strange, unique and complicated, not like a foreign injury or outstanding concern. The deep ache clung to him as the scent of rain clings to the air when storm clouds gather – noticeable, special, but nothing out of the ordinary. Therefore, while Loki dove to understand them, it was a gradual pace. He had indulged his curiosity with knowledge and grown familiar as things came, never seeking something specific. But, _oh_ how he wondered now…

“Physical or not, what could possibly bring you here before dawn without even checking to see if I’m conscious?” Strange’s continuation jolted Loki from his thoughts, although his voice was soft – tired, startled, perhaps grumpy, but not truly angry.

Always the courteous host to this insistent man of mischief.

Loki cleared his throat before replying wittily, “You were clearly conscious in some form.” He nodded to the empty armchair before resuming, unabashed, “And if you weren’t, I would wake you. Anyway, the latest book, about the hand signs… I want more information.”

Strange cocked his head, sitting up and pushing back his covers to reveal his bare torso. A twisting, white scar marred his left pectoral, and Loki stared at the lines before the sorcerer grabbed a robe to cover up, standing and straightening the blankets beneath him neatly. The answering timbre of his voice did not sound until he had sat back down, this time on the edge of the bed to face his surprise guest fully. “Are you referring to the gestures themselves, or the sigils conjured from them?”

The copy shimmered as it started pacing, Loki chuckling quietly behind closed lips at Strange feeling the need to be more modest – when the god’s physical form lie naked to the undergarments in his own bed across the state. The sorcerer already knew his guest was giving a false appearance anyways, so there was no need to make it flawlessly convincing. When focusing on the concept, the book lying on his bed, the illusion flickered from split attention.

“Every _spell_ has the gesture, the sigil, and the intent behind it,” he mused. “Either the gesture is largely psychological, or you would be useless in a fight – and the sigil seems to be a reaction of the intent, correct?”

“Yes, the gesture allows one to focus and enables a visual representation of the handling of dimensional fabrics… Although, because our technique draws from the natural both within and externally, the gestures are necessary to the best of one’s ability. There is no getting around it, except for a select few.”

The illusion flickered.

Strange huffed slightly, but did not sound bothered. “Are you writing something?”

“Yes, please be quiet. I’m trying to… make sense of this.” Loki, in contrast, sounded quite frustrated.

Strange disregarded his request, pale eyes reflecting the dim lamplight. “What is the range of your copies? We’ve got to be hours apart. Is the flickering from distance, like… cell reception, or merely focus?”

The illusion solidified again when it glanced up. “I have not tested my range, it has never been an issue. Though, if I am injured or my focus is divided, then yes, they become weaker.”

“Ah. Focus, then.” Strange leaned forward, picking up the book his projection had been reading earlier from where it had dropped onto the floor. He opened to a certain page. “I saw your comments.”

“You did? I thought that cover seemed familiar.” Now, Loki did not want to inquire as to what the sorcerer thought, but that curiosity… It pulled. It prickled in the air.

Sensing it too, Strange sat forward and obliged. “You seem confused.” The man took a moment to brush those scarred hands over the pages, skimming some of the annotations and admiring the penmanship. “You don’t seem to have a full understanding of the concept – the belief – that one can manipulate what is physically real instead of what is perceived. At least on the larger topics, such as weapon generation or spatial manipulation. I’m shocked at how hung up you are on the Mirror Dimension, it’s really quite simple. Basically, you seem to struggle with fundamentals.”

“Confused perhaps isn’t the correct word.” It was, but Loki felt… foolish. He was growing angry with himself for not being able to comprehend something this human sorcerer deemed so uncomplicated. “Operating in people’s minds just makes more sense, and changing the fabric of reality does not seem necessary.”

“It may be necessary if your opponent can see through them. Perhaps their constitution is greater than you can manipulate and fool, where would that leave you? Whereas I –” tapping his wrists together and curling his fingers in procession, a luminescent sigil hovered in the air, “ – I don’t have to rely on any strength besides my own to show this to you.”

“But if my _mind_ is stronger, then I never have to fight them. There may not even be an opponent at all.” Loki’s illusion disappeared, attention remaining, just as Strange flipped the sigil upside-down and placed the book on top of the hovering disc. 

“That may be your fault. Complacency is considered a weakness when manipulating the physical, your mental disposition automatically puts you against the laws of conservation. Believe me, I was stranded on Everest before I figured it out. You need to understand your own humility and place in the give and take you are employing.”

The response, while true, made Loki’s heart harden. He did not like what he heard, how it complicated things, and watched in bitter silence as the sigil disappeared and Strange set the book back down on the nightstand.

“Complacency, real or faked,” he finally spat, “has kept me alive _many_ times.”

As the image of Loki reappeared, the sorcerer stood, walking calmly over to it. Hesitating, he pushed his hand through the space of the illusion’s shoulder, fascinated as it shimmered emerald around his solid flesh. His hands trembled, and if Loki concentrated from where he lay, he could feel… that deep-rooted ache. He focused on it, the tingling concentrated in the space where the hand met his shoulder.

Not a longing, no, and less sadness… _Nostalgia_.

“It could also be your hubris.” Strange rubbed his fingers together before retracting his hand.

Loki blinked, recovering from the taste of revelation. “I have been told that is a problem.”

“That danger is a fine line to walk.” At long last, Strange’s pale eyes left Loki’s image and met his gaze, those that were downcast to his hands. He smirked softly and held them up, the scarred backs on display to his guest in all their quivering glory. “This is only one example of what I am telling you. My complacency brought me to the lowest point in my life, and learning humility brought me here. I could easily conceal these injuries, but I choose not to. As a reminder.”

While his curiosity only grew, the newfound respect that blossomed in his chest held the god back from prying with inquiries. He knew better than some not to pick at insecure hurts, even though at the most opportune times it could be weaponized. But here – this quiet room, early in the dark hours of the morning, his expression settled softly to an understanding sadness. “Then that is where our paths diverged,” he said.

Strange returned a fracture of the expression, only with a pity more clear, as if he recognized exactly the faults he described in the god before him, those safeguarded complacencies. “I see,” after a beat. “Then I am afraid I can no longer offer you any books or insight. It would do you no good to read up on something out of your reach. There is a difference between studying a concept and perceiving it as a form of fiction, of which you are currently doing the latter.”

The frustration burst forth before Loki could catch his tongue, “I _know_ it is not fiction, I’ve _seen_ you do it!”

“But you still set it aside, electing to ignore it, instead of trying.” Strange raised a brow, keeping his voice instructional and steady despite the condescending callout. “You clearly have an aversion to wanting to expand on your methods.”

Loki thought of many things, of many people, and argued, “I’ve already hit my lowest and come back, I am _not_ doing that again.”

“You do not have to. You just have to alter your thinking. It took a colossal change for _me_ to do that, but for you… it might be just a shift.” Strange took a step back to give him space, sensing the antsy fluctuations of energy in the room.

“And if I make that shift?” A shaky inhale preceded a slow, levelled exhale. Decisive and controlled.

“Then I would be willing to answer any further questions you may have regarding your studies.”

The following silence was begrudging, but then the air steadied, and Loki’s illusion simpered easily. “Then, I will make an attempt. Oh, but I suppose I should mention – you never gave me _permission_ to read the books in the first place. So,” raising his left hand, the god flaunted a neat stack of two volumes and released a breathy chuckle, “you cannot really tell me to stop.”

Strange stared at the spot where the image of both Loki and his books disappeared, mouth open to snark in return. The stillness of the room pressed in, and the quietness of his ears made way for a high ringing sound, tinny and just out of reach. Sitting before vertigo settled, as it at times had from the sudden appearances and absences of Loki’s energy, Strange ran his fingers through his hair and read the clock marking 4:30 in the morning.

And while he knew he should sleep, the knowledge that he no longer cared to stop Loki from borrowing the Sanctum’s books disturbed him. This newfound apathy, embedded in fondness, would not bode well for future council.

Unless, Strange admitted it was intentional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> I am having such a blast writing this fic, I hope you are enjoying it likewise!!
> 
> To support the fic, see what I'm up to, hear updates or just chat, follow me on social media! Tumblr @aegir-emblem and Twitter @thirthfloor !!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen stayed up all night reading about Loki; his families, his past, all that had been scribed to this point. Then, he finds Loki on a morning stroll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the start of this story, I've had the worst writer's block a person can imagine, school has absolutely sucked the soul out of me... and I'm so sorry for the slow chapter and the quality of the previous ones. I hope this one betrays that I've regained a scrap of inspiration, and thank you to those who waited!

In college, getting coffee from an outdoor kiosk was a gift, rushing between classes packed into the first half of the day powered purely by the caffeine concentrated in those small Styrofoam cups; in med school, the need for those kiosks and stands only spread to the afternoons as well, and more often than not were useful when tracked down in the evenings.

Then, when Stephen Strange had begun his practice, a sense of pride came from continuing the tradition – he could afford so much better, finer, smoother coffees from any number of cafes, yet he still chose the kiosks when they could be found. At the time, he felt he was doing them a favor, like visiting an old, less fortunate friend. But now, wiser and admittedly less exhausted, it carried as a reminder, reminiscent of humble beginnings, progress, and to reflect on those that helped along the way. Consider it sappy, but reflection had become a constant theme in the retired doctor’s life.

Also, it was cheap, and Strange had long abandoned trying to be particular about the taste of these things.

Additionally, he had inadvertently kept himself awake for the duration of the night and decided there was no point in trying to get rest when the sun had already risen, so the sorcerer easily found himself in desperate need of the comforting beverage.

Steam rose from the cup in fading spirals of mist, a miniature version of the cosy smoke of a warm hearth. Sunlight peeked over the city, waking to spill its rays over the streets and between the buildings that impeded its golden morning glare. Strange took a deep breath as he turned from the stand, willing the crick tension to leave his neck and shoulders in peace.

His gaze settled immediately on a place the sunshine had not quite reached – or rather, a person who seemed to be refusing it. Clad in all black, a suit too fine for merely a morning stroll, the person hunched their shoulders and walked briskly across the plaza, past the lovely grass lawn of the park and disdainfully mindful of the curious city fowl.

An exasperatedly fond smirk tugged at Strange’s lips, sigh escaping as he moved to fall into stride alongside the sulking god.

“Want me to put a rain cloud over your head while you’re at it?”

Loki startled, wavy wires of his hair falling loose with the upwards snap of his gaze. “Does _everyone_ need to mock me today? Does no one truly have anything better to do before eight?”

If Strange were jolted by the sharp tone, he did not show it; instead raised a hand in acknowledgment before lowering and tucking it into his pocket. “My apologies. Rough day, then?” The coffee was slightly stale upon the first sip, but that was alright.

Loki _tched_ , a short hiss between clenched teeth. “I have simply reached my daily limit of being called a vampire and a witch.”

“Aw, that’s entirely understandable. Although, it… wouldn’t _kill_ you to wear something with colour.” Strange gave the tight, formal suit a once over from the side and he took another drink of the coffee.

Loki rolled his eyes, giving hardly a response beyond a moody huff. Nothing atypical.

Although, continuing to stare at him, the sorcerer soon detected an aura feeling particularly imbalanced, and a frown tugged defiant against the mirth on his lips. He took a quiet, deep breath until finding the source of such disparity – that the steady prickles of Loki’s power he had grown accustomed to were absent, dulled to a purposeful muffle. The frown deepened, lines creasing.

The god could be sulking. When at times he had been this way in the sorcerer’s presence and his energy lashed out, unstable and spiking, now it seemed reeled in. Suppressed in a way that was protective or disdainful, a sticky and muted air about it like trying to hear through water.

That, or Loki had grown tired of feeling Strange’s magical _prodding_ , the way their energies intertwined and poked at one another ever so when concentrated.

Strange mused, allowing their walk to continue in silence, before a new question came to mind. One he had been bothered with for the past twenty-four hours or so. “So… you gave birth to a horse?” Of course, there _was_ more than one question, especially the ones that would come subsequent to this explanation, but this first inquiry seemed the most questionable item on the list.

Loki startled at the matter, opening his mouth once before snapping it shut with a frustrated furrow of his brow, and took a moment to debate with himself.

“… It was a strategic move.”

“And the wolf? And the – the World Serpent? Jörmungandr?” Now _this_ was concerning. Making a face, the sorcerer tried his hardest not to show the full reaction held initially after refreshing memory on the legends. There was a logical way the births could have come about, surely, but… the _image_ that lingered in his mind…

“Fenrir was _not_ mine, and is now dead, courtesy of the man my brother is so excessively fond of.” Scoffing at the poor pronunciation of the name, Loki corrected, “ _Jörmungandr,_ the Serpent, is a vastly misrepresented story on Midgard. To my knowledge. There is perhaps a way it is mine, but I do not recall if so.”

“Uh… Understood. Thank you.” Responding stiffly, Strange tried to convince himself, “That clears up some… questionable reading I had to get through.” It did not. Not in the slightest – well, sort of, again that logic made sense… but the image would not abandon his conscience.

“You read about me?” Loki asked instead, pale eyes lighting up in a way even he must not have recognized, for he would _not_ have allowed that endeared expression to show through. There was almost a relief there, and Strange wondered what exactly the god may have dug up on _him_ in preparation. Or retaliation, depending on how this conversation could very well have gone.

But certainly, he had. Strange felt drawn since their first meeting, and most definitely their second once they had a chance to exchange words. But it was more complicated than simply _asking_ with Loki – there was a level of effort that must be put into that man, a working to produce even a scrap of the outcome wished to receive.

Reluctant to give insight to such certainty, though, the sorcerer merely shrugged. “There are so many volumes within the Sanctum that I have not uncovered yet, some were bound to contain records of you and your family… Well, _families_. I had recently picked them up on account of your father’s passing being on earth, but then I got… carried away.” The finishing tone may have been _just_ a little sheepish.

Loki frowned then, a slight wince betraying his dissatisfaction at the new knowledge, and an apparent victory on Strange’s hand for likely discovering more than the god expected. His pale gaze once more flicked about, watching the passerby with a disgruntled expression before responding tightly, “I see.”

A part of Strange found slight glee in seeing Loki frustrated or squeamish, simply due to its amusing and delightfully cute nature. He knew he should feel sorry, but it was nothing too significant to fret over that caused this distress; everyone Strange knew got a bit of a hazing from him at some point, and as he intended to maintain whatever relationship this was becoming, there would be no exception. The sorcerer chuckled warmly and finished his coffee, tossing the cup in a nearby wastebin before returning to his companion’s side. Shockingly, Loki had actually stopped walking to wait for him.

Or, it was the quizzical expression that had stopped him instead, a new curiosity prickling between them. The magical sensations were diluted in the open air of the park, but Strange grew accustomed to searching for them, and his senses perked at the feeling.

“You were a surgeon, no? Before… this.” Loki clarified, posing his question lightly and conversationally.

“I was, described as potentially the best neurosurgeon in the Western Hemisphere before my resignation.” Answering easily, the retired doctor’s pride still shown through even as his smile stiffened, the memory of the glaring accident and the dark phase that followed coming briefly to mind. In the middle of a happy, difficult but satisfying life, it was never easy to look back on the ignorance that bound him to money and a career; fickle things that so soon were so brutally torn away. A repulsive pity for his past self soured the back of Strange’s tongue.

If Loki noticed the disquiet, he elected to ignore it. “ _You_ would _cut_ people’s heads open, for medical purposes, and they would survive their most vital – if underused – organ being _stabbed_ … yet, the horse shocked you?”

“There is a difference between using knowledge of medicine and natural causes to prevent a vital organ from dying and just _stabbing_ it. And, as I’m sure you know, human men don’t usually give birth at all, let alone to horses. So, forgive my astonishment,” Rolling his eyes, Strange exhaled indignantly. “Also, horses don’t have nine legs. Consider my surprise more concern for the physical state of your body than actual shock.”

“I _was_ ,” Loki huffed, “in fact, a mare at the time. Though the experience was still hardly what I would call pleasant.”

Grimacing, it did not take long at all for the confusion to then make itself visible on the doctor’s face. Any passerby could clearly see the gears turning behind that puzzled expression, hear their grinding and see the figurative smoke. Loki regarded Strange in turn, unbothered, and waited patiently for his brain to catch up so that he might speak.

“So, in shape-shifting, you can alter reality. Surely, you must realize that? It was something in your notes you _constantly_ demonstrated confusion on, yet you – you do it.” Strange attempted to rationalize. “When shifting clothing, and humanoid forms it can pass as an illusion, but… to become a different species and go through labor? That _must_ require more than a different image… Please, tell me you altered reality, Loki. Not just – _looked_ like it.”

His face, a twist of horror and denial would be concerning if the subject matter were not so ridiculous – and knowing that the situation had been entirely fine, Loki found it quite alright to chuckle lightly. “It is changing my _own_ mind, in that case, which then makes it reality to everyone else. So, yes, I was – for all intents and purposes – _actually_ a horse.”

Once the color began to return to his sharp cheeks, the sorcerer considered the fact and conceded. “I see. That makes me feel better. Again, thank you for clarifying.”

“Of course.” A smug smile pulled further at Loki’s lips, and they walked with naught a sound but their footfalls on the gravel pathway before the god chimed in once more. “But really, you cut people open? Surely there is a better way?”

Groaning quietly, Strange mulled over the retort he desired to give, naturally defensive of the science of his past profession, but thought better of it and shrugged. “Humans don’t have the technology available to access the interior of a body without severing it or invading it in some way. I assure you, our methods often lead to the fullest and safest recovery, but… yes, we must cut people open. It is the surest way to remove or adjust what must be done without damaging something else.” The doctor inclined his head, tone lifting nonchalantly like his gaze up at the tall buildings running perpendicular to their course of stroll. “It can be avoided in other practices, but that is the entirety of a _surgeon’s_ job. It’s very, very difficult… but quite necessary.”

“And you were the best?” Tone soft, Loki teased, but a lilt betrayed the smug underscore to his words. They both had egos, it was no surprise that the god’s would be boosted knowing his acquaintance once dominated a professional field. Perhaps. Unless he was just mocking in its entirety. Which would also be unsurprising.

“On this side of the planet, at neurosurgery, I was. But I could also operate fully on the spinal column and could probably somewhat manage others if I absolutely had to. I did not go through eight years of postgraduate schooling to be _mediocre_.”

At no response, Strange glanced to the side and was met with the slightest smirks on Loki’s face, pride evident as the god regarded the human alongside him. Something in his chest pounded, and he blamed the way the air between them crackled and stuck like liquid paste, but feeling sweeter; a mutual, cohesive egotism that hopefully would not entice a compromise of manners.

More seriously again, Loki faced forward and gave their conversation little time to fall flat. “You said you have books on my families?”

“I do, the previous keepers of the Sanctum as well as the ancient libraries all have far more accurate accounts of other worlds and their histories, since they are aware of the truth of their existence… You do have an impressive, if not complicated record, as we’ve established. Those records which date back, roughly… 1000 years?”

Loki scoffed at the sight of that sly grin, turning his face away ever so slightly. “Unimportant, regardless, too old for you. How much recent history is included?”

“Not much that has been published among our ranks. The modern world has given up on pursuing such topics, and our few scribes are incredibly thorough.” Strange chuckled softly, and Loki cringed at the condescending bit to it, the sound like that of a parent who speculates more than they should know. “Why, is there something you’d like to tell me before I find out for myself?”

“You said it yourself, my record is complicated.” Loki spat back and hunched his shoulders, trying to inhibit his mood from souring. _And why should he care? Where was this preserving caution coming from?_

Strange regarded him with that stare, and nodded in understanding. Loki looked as if he wanted to hunch his shoulders up to his ears until disappearing like an embarrassed turtle. The sorcerer then spoke reassuringly, disinclined to lose his company just yet, “As is everyone’s, to some degree. It just matters to the amount one is willing to validate and forgive, as well as others.”

“Which is relatively little, I’ve found,” Loki mumbled, shoulders still lifted high beside his ears.

A sympathy, a pity, something _tender_ welled up then in Stephen’s chest, and he found himself speaking again before words had even strung together in his mind. A blurted justification to salvage a truth’s integrity. “Understandable, but there _is_ still a small percentage that will. As a doctor, you learn quickly not to disregard those small numbers. Small mortality rates are _still_ mortality rates, and small survival rates are still survival rates. Regardless, an operation is underway.”

“What are you even getting at? At times you make little sense, _Doctor_.”

“We cannot always ignore little numbers, in any situation. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

Strange watched as Loki then heaved a hefty sigh, attention slipping away and falling towards him all at once. The god seemed suspended between ignoring him, discouraged and brooding, and a hopeful reach for the slightest scrap of assurance. The sorcerer puzzled over this, the nervous flitting of the air like sparrows scattering, not knowing whether to feel sorry for startling it or sorry for the jitters themselves.

“No,” he finally uttered, reaching up to right strands of his long hair that had fallen loose at some point during their discussion. “But small numbers, they can be discouraging. Especially when you yourself do not always fall into the optimistic category.”

Stephen frowned, his heartstrings twisting and knotting a tight coil in his chest. He knew that feeling, very well knew that despair – himself believing and denying that anything could change what had gone so horribly wrong. Yet, despite it all… the smallest chances, the tiniest probability that luck would strike him had come to pass.

“But they exist,” was all he said, in a tone softer than he had spoken all day, even in mutters to himself at the early research hours of the morn.

“Occasionally, yes.” Loki conceded, lacking conviction.

His words left the empty space for the two men to fall into silence once more. Even these pauses, in the confiding nature of their conversations, were pleasant in their own awkward way. Things had been spoken and shared on this clear morning in the city, and Strange could not place his finger on it, but something shifted. It rippled like the universal oscillations he’d grown to detect, however it felt less… monumental.

No, it was equally as important, nevertheless misplaced. It was a personal shift, in a private aura that engulfed rather than separated, exposed rather than protected. An intermingling since, an acquaintanceship growing more fated.

The sorcerer pondered this, briefly before and long after his companion politely requested they bid farewell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!
> 
> I love Stephen so much... he's so soft at times. And poor Loki, baby has a hard time with the logistics of things sometimes ;-; lol <3
> 
> Follow me on social media! Twitter @thirthfloor and Tumblr @aegir-emblem!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks pass in Stephen and Loki's acquaintanceship. The sorcerer decides to make a surprise visit to the Compound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for how long it's been since I've updated this fic! I cut this chapter in half because I wanted to get something out to you guys, so it's a bit shorter than the others!
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience. Lots of love.

Odd acquaintances though they were, Loki and Strange managed to stay in touch without meeting as frequently as would be suspicious. Between skillfully slipping hidden notes in faded margins of ancient texts, to appearing in one another’s residencies at waning morning hours when none would be the wiser, the days dragged out into time much longer and much more productive. It had been a while, yes, but they had their fun.

Yet now, suddenly the sorcerer had enough of principle. He watched as Loki stumbled over theories, and sometimes entirely understood others, and all the while grew more curious as to what it was the god could achieve. Plus, teaching was one subsequent step towards mastery, and it had been much too long since Strange had instructed anything at Kamar-Taj or elsewhere; so in all honesty the man could use some practice himself.

These musings had all culminated to a decision in the end, and that decision led to Strange portalling himself directly past Tony Stark’s security into the lobby of the Avengers compound. Some distant monitor beeped, and while Stephen’s nerves set on edge in the instance he was unwelcome, nothing felt particularly threatening. He _had_ sent an email or two before, so surely he could not _entirely_ be mistaken for an intruder.

Tony took the elevator down, the light chiming and signaling his arrival as he strode through the opening doors. He pointed loosely at the guest in the lobby. “Hey, wizard man, right? With the glowy disks?” Shifting his hands in a half-assed karate demonstration, Stark acted calmly even as he assessed the guest he had only before been aware of through mutual acquaintances.

Strange only barely controlled his eyeroll, and stuck out his hand to shake Tony’s, as a quaint if not slightly forced courtesy. “Yes, Dr. Stephen Strange. I’m here to retrieve Loki, I need him for some experimental practice studies.”

“Tony Stark, yeah, clearly. You’re not gonna like – kill him or anything, right? FRIDAY, get Loki down here, would ya?” The immediate transition from concerned question to summoning the god to the lobby, coupled with the lackluster care in Stark’s tone all betrayed that he honestly had little interest in whatever magical intent Stephen had with the god. That was, as long as it did not end up being something he would have to come handle later on.

The AI responded obediently; _He has been informed that there is someone here to see him. Thor and Dr. Banner are also coming down._

“Oh, great, let’s just have a party in the lobby.” Tony glanced around, as if taking in the area with new perspective, and a smile curled at his lips. “Actually…”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for that.” Strange sighed softly, folding his hands neatly behind his back and watching the staircase and elevator entrances in a way that could almost be considered anxious. _Almost._ He was not particularly desperate, just wanted to make a little show for his own entertainment; and now hoping that did not terribly backfire.

Frowning, Tony started walking away, glancing over his shoulder although still in sight. “But you would consider it?”

“No. Booked.”

“Always?”

It was at that moment that Peter Parker stepped into view of the lobby from the open hall to the kitchen, a whole saltine cracker halfway into his mouth. The young man froze the second he laid eyes on the guest doctor, and the cracker fell into his mouth when the hand holding it jutted forward in a series of excited points.

Stephen Strange frowned, surprised to see a child here, of all places. “Um.”

Peter bolted forward, choking down his cracker quickly enough to be dignified before speaking, although coughing a bit into his elbow before the words were intelligible. “Um – hi, I’m – I’m Peter Parker! Hi! We don’t usually get visitors…”

That same pointing hand flexed out for a handshake, salt from the cracker dusting his fingertips.

The doctor’s lips twitched in the slightest frown at the crumbs, but figuring it would do no good to ruin the child’s mood, he shook hands nonetheless. Strange wiped his palm discreetly on the side of his tunic immediately afterwards. “Dr. Strange. Hi.”

“Oh, we’re using our made-up names? I’m uh – I’m Spider-Man, then.”

 _Oh._ Having _just_ opened his mouth to offer an indignant response, the sorcerer was instead interrupted at the thunderous footfalls of Thor dragging his brother down the stairs, a fidgety Dr. Banner trailing behind them with a look both confused, curious, and utterly exhausted. Strange recognized him from the abstract cover of some radiology research papers he had read some fifteen years ago, and let out a soft _huh_ of recognition. Peter darted off in the direction of Stark’s lab, probably where the two of them were working just earlier, and something in the back of Stephen’s mind hoped they did not neglect some dangerous device to accommodate this _scene_. Meanwhile, the inventor himself had halted with a dangerously amused grin, anticipating how this whole sudden debacle would turn out after all.

Thor finally released his brother from one firm grip, Loki immediately recoiling from his broadly gesturing arms. “I _told_ you it would turn into a friendship, Loki!”

Loki’s cheeks were blazing a bright red, frustrated and flustered all in one. Stephen smirked – so surprise _had_ been the way to go. “My _previous_ threat still stands, brother. Make it any worse and I’ll have your hand for real this time.”

“Hey, no murder in the lobby, Reindeer. Got that?” Tony had the quick sense to chime in.

Before that comment could dissolve into the throes of an argument, Banner cleared his throat and approached the tall doctor, holding out a hand. “Dr. Strange? Dr. Banner, it’s nice to finally meet you. I – followed some of your work back when you were still doing research and… well, then some.”

“Likewise. Radiology is always an experimental method for treating nervous injury. Nerves are delicate, we want to have every way of repairing them we can.” Strange shook Bruce’s hand with a courteous smile, before turning his attention respectfully to the Asgardian king. “Your Majesty. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your brother.”

“No, certainly! He needs to get out every once in a while. It’s good to see him growing fond of someone, as well!”

“I am not _growing fond_ of – don’t _push_ me, Thor.” Indignantly, Loki swatted Thor’s hands away when they nudged him slightly forward, backing far away and consequentially closer to the sorcerer who caused this ordeal himself. He let out a huff to make point that he was not retreating to the man’s safety, merely away from his sibling. Of course.

It took a shocking amount of restraint to bite back the smile that rose to Stephen’s lips. “His fondness of a topic, more so, he has expressed interest in new forms of the mystic arts. Hopefully, employing his efforts towards differing realities will make him more truthfully expressive in the meantime.” And there was no doubt that Strange was _definitely_ teasing, emphasis lying on _expressive_ as the blush tainting Loki’s face grew all the more apparent. 

Stark waved his hand flippantly at one of the cameras, a not-so-subtle recording motion, but the man was quiet and thoroughly entertained. Much to Loki’s disdain.

“I am _right here_ , you know,” he spat. Glaring as hard as he could at everyone in the room, that look was especially directed at Strange himself. Loki had been dealing with Thor’s teasing his entire life, and the added force was less than needed, nor appreciated. The god’s shoulders hunched forward, a little curl to contrast his usually stiff posture.

“Oh, I know,” Strange let a smile slip through if only for the sake to rile him up further. “In experiments, labs and training of any sort, it’s always necessary to debrief the participants beforehand. Consider this your debriefing.” Conjuring a portal to punctuate the sentence, the doctor turned then to nod his thanks to their audience.

“Thank you for your time, by the way. I shall return him shortly.”

Thor flapped a hand dismissively, shaking his head with a bemused grin. “No rush, but I do feel obligated to say – anything you do to him,” that waving hand stilled in a threatening point, “I’ll be doing right back to you. Twice.”

Stephen felt a flush beneath his cheeks, gladly one that did not register on his features; luckily, he had nothing of any sinister or… _sensual_ sort intended for this particular afternoon. Just to be sure that was clear, his chin lifted ever so slightly. “Does that include metaphysical manipulation and unexpected altering of excretory glands?”

The Asgardian king blinked, sputtering a chuckle. “What?”

Satisfied, the sorcerer leaned over to whisper to a rather exasperated and humiliated Loki. He winked, too. “You may sweat a little.”

Loki hissed back, “I have rarely despised someone more than my brother. But you are rapidly closing the gap.”

“Come, now. We’ve socialized long enough.” At last, Strange took hold of Loki’s wrist and dragged him through that waiting portal, sparks crackling around them as both of their clothing shifted to ordinary streetwear. Stephen in his jeans and sweater, and Loki in those unnecessarily fashionable dress pants, and… a dark green button down with the sleeves rolled up.

 _Hm_. He was trying color.

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Stark managed to get the last word, calling just before the portal zipped up behind them. He had not had that much fun in a _hot_ minute, a surprise guest that _wasn’t_ an alien attack. It felt nice. Strange knew it did, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!
> 
> Follow me on social media! Twitter @thirthfloor ; Tumblr @aegir-emblem
> 
> Once again, thank you guys so so so much for your patience. I meant to develop a better schedule to churn out these chapters since I have SO many (we're looking at like 45< ) but some stuff came up in my life that's been affecting my mental health and motivation pretty roughly and I have not had much time. Thank you so so so much for your patience, and I hope this will hold you over until I can get the next chapter out! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After stealing him from the Compound, Strange takes Loki to the Sanctum for some dimensional practice. Loki is not a fan of the Mirror Dimension.

Loki turned to face the room, face still burning with frustrated embarrassment from the _demonstration_ in the lobby. Upon gazing about though, the emotion began to fade instantly. It appeared they had entered a room of the Sanctum new to him, with only a few windows and little natural light, but illuminated by a combination of automatic bulbs and elegant if not brassy chandeliers. The ceiling was high, but not dreadfully so, and there were just as many bookshelves lining the walls as any room upstairs. A worktable lie at the far end of the room closest to the door, perpendicular to some sofas. And at the center of the room was a large empty space. Loki tapped his foot on the ground and scoffed at the cheap feeling of linoleum; although, given the scuffs on its surface, he was glad it was the plastic that held the damage rather than the beautiful hardwood underneath.

“Sorry for taking you so unceremoniously,” Strange said steadily, his tone almost nonchalant if it weren’t coupled with the acute focus he held on his guest, “although I suppose it wasn’t much less unpredicted than the other times.”

Loki bristled. _Gods… the wording._ “The audience was perhaps unnecessary. You could have just taken me from my room.” As Stephen moved away to pull the books he needed from the shelves, the curious god began a slow lap about the room. He examined the spines of the thick manuscripts, the artifacts at their sides, the impetus just as much his interest as his desire to keep from looking at the sorcerer before the heat left his cheeks.

From across the space, Stephen chuckled, unabashed. “I thought that went just find. And _friends_ , I heard mentioned? Do you think your brother approves?”

“Did you also hear my threat to stab him at the mention of that?” Resigned to the mostly faded pink tint his cheeks seemed to want to maintain, Loki turned around and plastered on his best scowl. _Yes, perhaps he considered them friends._ And _yes,_ Thor approved, but that was not exactly knowledge he had intended to be shared.

Why had Loki even bothered speaking to _Thor_ about it? He should have known it would come to this, so much for trying to be more open with his sibling. At least reserving his thoughts for himself maintained that _some_ semblance of dignity be in his control. But no, Thor latched on to even the quietest peep or suggestion, and Loki would never _ever_ hear the end of it.

He wanted to curse this sorcerer. Damn him. _Wanted_ to. But just…

“I did hear that bit, and I also found it quite endearing.” Strange smirked and set the stack of books onto the worktable with a thud, relieving the god of that teasing glance as he focused on laying the texts in order. His jaw set _just_ so, focusing now on the legitimate reason for this meeting. Loki hated how all he could do was stand there and wait to be instructed about. “Steph to the center of the floor, please. Also, that shirt looks nice on you. Color is good.”

Nevermind, this was _not_ going to be how this afternoon went about. Loki huffed, spluttering, “Wh – are you feeling alright? Isn’t it about at your age that humans begin to lose their lucidity?” He hoped that was not the case, Stephen seemed to be in good health, for… however old he was. Loki suddenly felt the urge to ask, but – but no. Not today. If anything were to come from this, Loki intended to take it. The knowledge, of course.

Loki would not admit he was flattered, not even embarrassed. This was just – confusing. Weird. This kind of thing did not happen to _him_.

“Quite alright, and I’m on the younger side of that spectrum. _And_ in plenty good health, I’m inclined to add. I take care of myself, you know, doctor’s orders and all that…” Again, that warm, deep chuckle, as though he’d said something terribly amusing. Loki only frowned deeper as he continued on, “I just haven’t gotten the opportunity to instruct someone in these methods yet, at least recently, and teaching is always the next step in discovery. So, I’m enjoying myself.”

“I still find it to be unprofessional. You’re discouraging me.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true, or you’d have tried to attack me by now.”

Joining the god at the center of the room, the air stilled. That thickness, so familiar and yet so foreign, so addicting, filled the empty space between whatever molecules floated about. It sounded like static, a white noise to block out all distraction. Loki felt it pulse beneath his skin and could not help but revel in the feeling, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes just long enough to glimpse the aftereffects, that entoptic phenomena of Strange’s bold, golden aura. It had taken a few tries to pinpoint the shade, but now it seemed clear, obvious even, to glisten like the rich, melted mixture of coin and minerals. Knowledge, enrichment, and foundation.

Strange stayed quiet as he held out both hands, palms towards the ceiling, and three glowing elements appeared in the air above them. Waiting, like they were at rest on invisible alters, and casting illuminated shapes and patterns on the surfaces around them. A blue mist, a flickering gold spark, and a faint scarlet flame. Loki felt he could not stare long enough at each one.

“Choose one,” Stephen’s voice sounded like a murmur. “It will dictate which path we begin on.”

After a moment, Loki whispered, “Blue.”

“You’ve chosen exploring the dimensions.” Dismissing the samples with a wave, the sorcerer moved to stand behind Loki. He took a moment to adjust the god’s posture, hands lingering to turn his hips and straighten his shoulders. Loki fought the urge to swat him away, though the urge was not _too_ strong. “Tell me, what do you know of other dimensions? From your own knowledge of what you’ve read from the books here. The Mirror Dimension, or the Astral, for example?”

Beneath the suddenly all-too-thin fabric of his clothing, Loki’s skin prickled at the feeling of Stephen standing behind him. An instinctual wariness of the presence of a powerful individual out of eyesight, yes, but also… Some other, some much less easily grasped tension underlay, too. Loki cleared his throat, “They exist in parallel to ours. The Mirror Dimension exists closest to our own, unnoticed by those outside it. And the Astral _is_ ours, but one we cannot touch.”

“Good,” Strange hummed, pleased. “The Mirror Dimension can be used to contain threats and hold battles. Anything within it cannot exit unless somehow manipulated back or into an entirely new dimension.”

He moved closer to Loki’s side then, still behind him though some of that tension eased, but it was hardly noticed – for he folded his hands, and the energy rippled around them like a blanket folding over, and the tinkling of glass went with a wave through the image before them. A sharp kaleidoscope of the room, reflecting patterns and disfiguring others revealed the interior of the new dimension right where they stood.

Unprepared for the thrumming, strangely claustrophobic sensation, Loki took a step back in shock; his back pressed right to the sorcerer’s chest, and the man behind him did not so much as _move_. Heat rushed to the god’s face, making the room appear to spin even more, so he had no choice but to stay in place for a second to regain bearings. He straightened up before speaking. “My… apologies. Anyways. Erm – anyone who came into the room now would not be able to see us?”

“Correct.” Their voices echoed around them, the bass of Stephen’s carrying a unique timbre here. “Anything within the Mirror Dimension is entirely contained. It is the safest way to go about security when there are threats, but… this room happens to be one of the calmer. Take a look outside.”

Loki glanced down warily, worried that taking a step would result in an embarrassing stumble… But he moved forward anyways, curiosity driving him like a stringed marionette. He went to the window and pushed aside the curtains, opening it to see the architecture of the neighboring building. Just… a little wonky, a little out of place. Too many spirals and swirls in the engraving, and one too many bricks. His eyes crossed slightly trying to follow it, and he closed the window to turn back to the room proper.

“It is contained, but more complicated. Dangerous.” That tinkling noise like chimes in the wind echoed once more throughout the room, a pulse going through the floor. Loki did not favor this dimension. Lingering here made him nervous. That glassy sound suddenly reminded him of a far too unkind shattering from some five years ago. A rainbow flash, cutting, falling… The ground pulsed again.

Strange blinked and followed the pulse with his eyes, raising one brow as it passed under his feet. His momentary stutter passed almost unnoticed, and Loki moved away from the window. “Anything could happen,” Stephen lectured. “No other people or things would be injured or broken, but you are at just as much if not a _greater_ risk of getting injured or killed in this dimension when engaged in combat. Or, well, falling or getting hit by things. That can happen, too. Any observations, questions?”

“No,” Loki retuned to the center of the room, tracing the seams of the glass. He still felt that pressing claustrophobia, the reverberation of his energy against the walls becoming an unnerving echo. “That was fairly explanatory, I believe.”

“Excellent. What did you feel when we crossed between dimensions? And not your body, your mind… What did your senses experience, how do you think you can emulate that with your own abilities?”

“I don’t…” Loki swallowed down the answers that leapt to mind. _Uncomfortable. Afraid. Like the air has been sucked out of the room. Like falling._ But that was not an aspect of merely traversing dimensions, that was… _this_ one. He refocused. “Everything shifted, the fundamental building blocks of reality changed. I can’t do that, not… not here.”

Stephen frowned, possibly sensing his disconcert. Oh, it would be wonderful if they could leave now, please and thank you. They could just as well discuss this elsewhere. But the sorcerer continued his inquiry, either oblivious or electing to ignore Loki’s fidgeting energy. “You can. Nothing was changed, just altered. A nudge to a different place, but one that is very similar to where you are now, one of the closest dimensions to ours.”

He redemonstrated the hand motion, but there was no change in their surroundings. Blast. “Start with just that, the motion.”

“Altered and changed are synonyms,” Loki huffed. Still, he copied the motion more hesitantly, fingers cold.

Nothing happened. Strange shrugged. “My apologies, then. Nothing is being _transformed_ , just altered.” He watched with a neutral expression as Loki repeated the motion a couple more times, growing frustrated but eventually performing to his satisfaction. “As I’m… sure you can tell, the Mirror Dimension feels claustrophobic. So, when you intend to enter it, imagine stepping into a box or room made entirely of one-way windows. The most vital part of our end of the mystic arts is mentally envisioning – clearly and _calmly_ – what you are trying to achieve. What difference you want to come about.”

“Calmly.” Loki shook himself a little, adjusting his stance, then put his hands out and repeated the motion. Still, nothing happened. He huffed, tried again, and still nothing.

“It’s okay to be frustrated.” Stephen said slowly after a few more truncated attempts. “Try again, don’t be afraid to expand your thoughts, relax. I won’t judge.”

He smiled a little, a nostalgic thing. Loki would be sour _at_ him if it did not look as though the man genuinely understood – no doubt he was considering his own shortcomings in the start of his training, some couple years ago.

“I’m not expanding my mind _into_ anything, though, I am trying to grab something real.” That frustrated tone still bled through, targeted at himself.

“Yes, it is real, but it’s not _here,_ so how could you grab it? Stop.” Having had enough, he finally grabbed Loki’s wrists and lowered his hands to cease the motions. Strange moved around to his front, still with that grip, and peered into his eyes with those sharp ones. They were cool like a mountain spring, or like the clear waters that used to cascade off the edge of Asgard’s ocean. Grounding, meditative in a way. Knowledge, enrichment, and foundation.

“Take a deep breath,” he continued, and Loki listened. “Think about what you are trying to do. You are clearing your mind to allow your _senses_ to calm. Once you feel separated enough from the overwhelming present, _then_ you reach out between the fabrics of _this_ reality and into another. Only then can you grab enough of that other to pull it back here.”

Releasing Loki’s hands, he demonstrated the motion again. Slower, he reached forward, and his fist closed around something, pulling back before pushing out to cast.

Loki nodded, forcing the furrow of his brow to relax. A deep breath allowed him to detach… but he knew when it was done that he had retreated into himself rather than reaching out. _Well, it would have to do._ He extended his arm and wiggled his fingers, feeling something slippery like water cascade between his fingers. _Ah, so this was it, then…_ Although, too much like water, he could not grab it. He tried again. And again. His eyes were closed but he was sure his hand was flapping uselessly in open air.

Failure was not an option, though, not _now_ , not in front of _him_ , and certainly not _here_. Loki wanted _out_ of this dimension, and so he closed his fist tightly and _yanked_ before casting. Semi-accidentally, an image of the Mirror Dimension spiked around them, a skewered stalagmite of the glassy floor jutting up only feet away. The god gasped and opened his eyes, focusing on that bit to assure himself that the piercing sensation had not been through his own body.

Strange, too, looked startled. He shook his head at the spike and immediately dissolved it, then after a moment dissolved the dimension as a whole. A weight lifted from Loki’s chest, and he could feel his heartbeat again. He took a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m impressed you were able to manifest something on the first day, Loki.”

“That… wasn’t real, though.” Loki wanted to kick himself. “I didn’t _do_ anything, it was just in your head.”

“Something of it was,” Strange was musing now, versing his thoughts out loud as he stared at the point where the spike had emerged. “If you hadn’t manifested the dimension at all, you would have made an exact copy of what I was showing you. But yours was… wrong. Which means there was _something_ from the dimension there.”

“Not enough.”

Stephen smirked at him. “But a small percentage. Don’t give up on the small numbers. Would you like to take a break?” The smirk dissolved into a frown at Loki’s troubled stance/

Pale blue eyes remained fixed on the floor. “No, but… it would be beneficial.”

“You look like you could take a break. Fifteen minutes.” Stephen led him over to the couches in the corner, sitting on one end himself and closing his eyes.

Loki stood for a moment more before sitting gingerly on the opposite end, crossing his legs and watching Stephen. The way his features, sharp though they were structured, relaxed when he closed his eyes. How his breathing evened in this small moment of repose. A transition so compartmentalized. A demonstration of an abundance of control. Loki felt a twist of envy lurk somewhere deep in his core, intermixed with an equally deep longing. He wanted to reach out, but to where?

After a couple moments, Strange sighed and opened his eyes, sitting forward just in time to catch Loki’s gaze on him. “Something else on your mind?”

Loki held his gaze, silent for a second more. “No.

“Alright. It’s good to be focused.” Stephen stood and returned to the center of the room.

 _I have never been less focused in my life._ Loki glowered and reluctantly followed.

The sorcerer’s tone of voice was more patient now, whether it be from rest or from the obvious weight in Loki’s movements. “Why don’t we try again” This time don’t worry about showing off to me. If nothing happens, nothing happens. That’s alright. I would prefer you start slowly with solid fundamental than develop poor habits.”

“You sound like my mother.” Loki responded without thinking, and immediately flinched, gritting his teeth against the memories. Well, it was _certainly_ time to focus, now.

Strange chuckled softly but did not press. “Rehearse the motion a couple times before you try to cast again.”

Loki emulated the motion carefully, correctly, but that heaviness still slowed his limbs, lurking and lethargic. The reluctance was becoming much more obvious, oozing out of him in waves. Gradually, the gestures became lazier and lazier despite his efforts to perfect them.

The thought of that glass. That sound. His mother. Practice, practice, practice. He wanted to stop.

“Try to cast.” Patiently, gently, Stephen coaxed him. He did not belittle by cutting the lesson short, but he also did not force.

Loki took a deep breath and gave one last heave of an actual attempt, feeling that watery, invisible fabric between his fingers again. He let it drift across his fingers, drip down his bare forearm. It thickened, like wax, and set the fine hairs on his arms and back of his neck on edge. It prickled, pins and needles. He faintly heard that glassy chime.

He closed his fist, almost had it, but let it slip away. He did not want to pull it closer, not now.

Stephen watched with a thoughtful frown. Loki looked at him, weary beneath a spark of interest. “Yes?”

“You are missing something. You’re close, I can feel you, but… something is still in the way. Perhaps we should call it a day.” Strange unfolded his hands from behind his back.

The god nodded in agreement, hands on his hips and a new glare fixing on a smudge in the linoleum. That fatigue returned, surprisingly tired for not actually having accomplished much. His silence spoke magnitudes.

“Would you like me to send you back to the Compound, or do you want to stay here? There are plenty of spare rooms, but please do not feel pressured to stay longer than you wish.” Strange’s aura receded, quit prodding at Loki’s own, and the absence was suddenly more unwelcome than Loki had even noticed when it lingered. He left Loki on the linoleum and went to gather the books from the worktable, sending them floating adrift back to their respective shelves.

Loki made his decision quicker than he’d like to admit. “After your entrance earlier, I’d like to avoid my brother for as long as possible.”

Strange laughed softly, a return of humor to the room. “Understandable. I have a few small tasks to attend to, I heard some, eh, _interdimensional_ creature scuttling about upstairs while we were practicing, so I should probably go get a hold on that. The rooms are on the uppermost floor, all but two are free. You can pick any you’d like.”

“I’m sorry, _interdimensional creature_? Is that… you know what, I’m not surprised. Why should I have been surprised. I’ll be upstairs, then, and… thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! Leave a comment if you enjoyed - I respond to each and every one!!!
> 
> I had such a great time writing this chapter, I LOVE describing what I think it's like to perform these mystic arts!! although, I have entirely given up on editing these chapters. My energy is so drained that I can barely get these out lol, but I love this story too much to drop it. Lots of feeling, also... Loki baby. :( having too many memories from Thor 1. RIP. My poor bb. Give him kisses.
> 
> Follow me on social media! Twitter @thirthfoor ; Tumblr @aegir-emblem!


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